


What We Are

by Kitty_KatAllie



Category: Eyeshield 21
Genre: "Friendzone" Blaming, Bad Engrish and Worse Puns, Bottom(andlovingit)!Taka, Explicit for later chapter(s), Fluff and Smut, Gay Panic, Heteronormative Language, M/M, No Homo, Riku is NOT the sassy gay best friend no he is definitely done with your shit monta, Seduce Taka plan does not go according to plan only it definitely does sooo, Slow Burn, Top!Monta, awkward first date, enjoy the ending mon amis, friend dates! candid sex talk! Sena spills deets! Sena has a JUDGEY face! imlove, good friend Sena what a bae, ish, pet names (Taka approved!), see notes for pertinent info going into this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-13 03:53:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 38,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9105574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitty_KatAllie/pseuds/Kitty_KatAllie
Summary: Set in the WIL series timeline during their junior year of college summer break.Monta finally figured out his major with a little help from his friends. After surviving his first semester as a declared Social Work major, his philanthropist role model, Honjou Masaru, who had taken him under his wing, gets Monta his very first internship in his newly chosen field. It means a whole three weeks of hard work in Osaka, but it also means staying in the Honjou's private home as a guest. Since their first meeting, Monta and Taka had kept up a great friendship that only grew stronger with age.But... you know, no homo, bro???





	1. Closer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenSchnee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSchnee/gifts).



> Upfront, I am not male, nor am I gay. In fact, I don't normally like writing "gay panic" fics because 1) go watch an after school special if you want that, it's been done a thousand times, 2) I'm not a boy OR gay, 3) I kinda hate that almost every "gay story" in media has this plot line at some point. Not every coming out story has to be like this, and not every gay person should NEED a coming out. I didn't need a "straight-ish" coming out. With 2 & 3 combined, I especially tend to avoid this plot device. 
> 
> But, y'all, this is Monta. He's totally going to have a gay freak out, and nuances like "bisexual" or "heteroflexible" or "pansexual" are barely in his vocabulary, let alone him understanding some of these concepts. Which will be blatantly discussed in the course of this fic. Beware of some bierasure-like language and some very poor handling of coming to terms with his sexuality. 
> 
> There WILL be smut before the end of this fic. And no, I don't quite know how long it will be. I'm hoping 3 chapters, tops. This first chapter got so fucking long (STORY OF MY LIFE) that I had to stop sooner than I'd planned, so maybe 4. 
> 
> Cheerio, I hope y'all like it! (Sorry for this AN being at the beginning instead of the end. As thanks for reading this, here is a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEi1IAb7S9DjMsgAEEMJYGCt6ECaEYiXt)?! Made as inspiration for this fic. Let's see if you can guess the next chapter title, yo.)

June was hot and humid; all across Tokyo, students were spread out over their college campus lawns, or hiding in the cool libraries, waiting for the end of the last day of finals. Monta had decided to stay in a library, despite preferring the sunshine and the smell of grass over musty old books, thanks to the one last final he still had to do. His first semester of his junior year of college was ending slowly and painfully. He was actually pretty sure he was going to die and he had _no idea_ how Sena had survived last year. Sure, Monta had taken it _max_ easy his first two years, surfing by on an undeclared major and taking general core classes and a few extra for fun (that freshman seminar on the history of chocolate had been awesome), but he thought finally figuring out his major would make life _easier_. He’d spent two years in an agony of indecision and purposelessness except for amefuto; it had been a relief to find out what he wanted to do with his life outside chasing a ‘pigskin’- as Americans called it. He definitely still wanted to get into the NFL like Sena and most of his friends, but everyone still had something _else_. Monta had felt like an moron for years for being so passionless off-field.

It didn’t matter how often Sena said amefuto was important to both of them, how Monta was sure to get drafted after college. It didn’t matter how often Taka sent texts agreeing with Sena and with actual mathematical stats worked out to show how likely his drafting would be. (The chance wasn’t as high as Sena’s or especially Shin’s, but it was still pretty high!) Not even Honjou-sensei’s occasional encouraging email helped on his worst days.

Monta had still looked at Sena working extra hard his sophomore year to get into his physical therapy program this year and felt _lacking_. He’d seen Riku looking into police academies and grinning when he came back from his stupid filing internship over winter holidays- as if just being in the _environment_ had fulfilled some need in him. And there had been Suzuna being over the moon with all her classes and meetings with older nurses in the hospitals she was hoping to get residency at in just a year. Hell, Monta had even gone with Sena to visit Shin while the giant robot man had been- of all things- coaching friggin’ little league amefuto at a community center; and he’d seen Shin _smile_ at _children._  It was eerie.

And depressing. Amefuto was great, but everyone else had these _options_ for just in case, or for after retirement, something that played to their other strengths and passions. Monta? He'd been looking at being a bagboy in a shop or hoping he made enough money playing ‘ball that he wouldn’t need a job afterwards.  

That is, until he’d gone with Mamori to a soup kitchen over winter break and realized… he… kinda liked it. Not just hanging out with Mamori- who could still make his heart pitterpatter, but was more like a cool big sister these days- but _helping_ people. He liked that. He liked making a difference in people’s lives. When he’d admitted it to Sena and Mamori, they’d both encouraged him enthusiastically and Mamori suggested the social work degree.

Starting a social work degree in his third year was… was… _hard_. There were so many new classes, he was older than a lot of his classmates that had come into college knowing they wanted to be in his new major. He had to figure out how to put in enough time to study these harder subjects and still make time for amefuto and practice, plus the part-time job he had to pay bills. It was _crazy_.

But as he set aside his study guide and slumped over the table, sure he had his _Human Behavior_ final in the bag (with 30 minutes to spare), he felt a little bit of… pride. In himself. He’d never been proud of his studies before. He was the kid that skated by on barely not failing (or as he liked to think about it, barely _pass_ ing). For once, it mattered more and there was an immense satisfaction in feeling _ready_ for an exam.

His phone chimed and he grinned at the customized ring.

 **Taka <<** _One more left._

 **Me** >> yah i cant wait to be done bro

 **Taka** << _Don’t call me bro. You’ll do well. You’ve studied meticulously and rigorously._

Monta grinned and rubbed his nose. It was pretty awesome when Taka both complimented him and used big words that Monta would never use himself. He always acted as if Monta were smarter than he really was. But also never made Monta feel like a tool for actually not knowing some smart fancy-pants word. He did know _these_ words, though (Taka really liked the word _meticulous_ …).  

 **Me >**> thnx man

 **Taka** << _That is not much better, Raimon._

Monta barked out a laugh, immediately wincing at the harried glares sent his direction.

 **Taka** << _You should be heading to your final now. Don’t allow that hard work go to waste, Raimon._

 **Me** >> yah yah im going now u said u wanted 2 talk 2 me bout smth???

 **Taka** >> _I also said after the final. Text me when it’s over. Good luck._

Monta sent a kissy face- just to mess with him, because Taka’s face whenever he got a emoticon was endlessly hilarious, like an offended _cat_ \- and shoved all his stuff back into his bag. He had just enough time to grab an energy drink from a vending machine before the final if he left now. Plus, the idea that he had some super secret news from Taka to look forward to had him too restless to sit and moan for fifteen minutes.

He went into his final final grinning. And not just because of the max awesome pun he’d made up and sent to every single one of his friends before turning the phone off.

* * *

 

Monta threw himself into Taka’s dorm room hours later, eyes wide and chest heaving. His eyes were also probably about to shake out of his sockets and his hands were trembling. Taka threw a water bottle at his face and Monta actually _fumbled_ it for a moment.

“Really!? You’re _serious!_?” Monta exclaimed wildly.

Taka sighed. “What did I say about those energy drinks?”

“I only had like, two,” Monta protested, ripping off the bottle cap and guzzling the water down. Taka’s unimpressed expression was waiting when Monta lowered the bottle with a gusty exhale. Monta threw himself on Taka’s dorm bed- Saikyoudai beds were so much better his own cheap one- and rolled his eyes. “Okay, so five.” Taka’s eyebrow arched and Monta looked away, pouting and pink-cheeked. “Six. But that’s not the point!” Monta flailed himself back upright. He jabbed his index finger in Taka’s direction, still clutching the sweating bottle. “Are you _serious_ about that internship?”

“When do I ever joke?” Taka retorted, twitching mouth belying his sternness. He shuffled through some papers in his printer to hide it (but Monta of course already saw it. He prided himself on noticing Taka’s almost smiles. He may or may not have a running tally in his head). The overachieving bookworm was probably already working on next year’s assignments. He liked predicting what the curriculum topics would be. For fun. He’d spent way too much time around Yamato, in Monta’s opinion.

“You joke, man. Sometimes. Kinda badly, but you do,” Monta teased, lopsided grin on his face.

Taka huffed and handed over the thin packet of papers he’d separated from the rest. “Well, this is from my father. When you told him about your major declaration-”

“You told him before I did.”

“He immediately began looking for something like this,” Taka finished, completely ignoring Monta’s interruption. Monta snickered and took the proffered pages. His eyes scanned the paper eagerly, grin stretching over his whole face and somehow growing wider and _confounded_ as he read. “You know how he is about charity work and his social reform projects, he always has his nose in someone’s business. It wasn’t difficult, I’m sure.”

Monta snorted and glanced up at Taka’s carefully blank face. “You act like it’s embarrassing, but me and sensei both know you’re proud of him.” He snickered again when Taka quickly turned away, cheeks pink.

“Be it as it may, my father made me promise to give them to you as soon as possible. He threatened to come to Tokyo himself to hand over the application if I didn’t give it to you the moment your last final was over,” Taka explained after subtly clearing his throat. _Such a daddy’s boy_ , Monta thought to himself, barely stifling more chuckles. “I prefer him in Osaka and as far away from you and Tokyo as possible. He causes much less trouble there.”

“Aw, bro, that’s just _mean_. I love it when sensei comes to visit!” Monta whined pathetically. It was Taka’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Oh, I know. You’re each other’s biggest fans. It’s quite heartwarming. And don’t call me bro,” Taka said despairingly.

Monta just laughed, ears and cheeks just a little warm at the reminder of how Honjou-sensei had taken him under his wing as much as he had. Monta really hadn’t expected to stay so close to Taka and Honjou-sensei, not really. Taka was just… so… _Taka_. And Monta was just a fanboy who managed to be really good at catching in comparison to _the_ Honjou-sensei. But… Honjou-sensei had really become like a father figure in the past few years, though he would joke about him being like the ‘cool uncle’ out loud. He didn’t wanna come off creepy, but mostly he didn’t want his mother to overhear. It might upset her or make her feel guilty- which led to anger. (He and his mother both dealt with guilt the same way.)

“So you don’t mind? Me staying over at your house for three whole weeks?” Monta asked when he finished reading over the application and job description.

Taka turned in his expensive spinny chair to meet Monta’s worried gaze head on.

“One, it’s not my choice to invite you to my father’s house. If my father’s going to invite you, then you accept if you want to. My opinion doesn’t matter. Two, you’re my friend, one of the best friends I’ve made in Tokyo. I don’t mind your presence in the slightest, in fact, I enjoy it.” Monta grinned widely. “Thirdly, and lastly, this is a great opportunity. I’d hate to deprive you of it because I’m afraid of your smelly socks in the laundry room. I won’t be an obstacle. Not off the gridiron, that is,” Taka listed off bluntly and honestly, smirking smugly at Monta with the parting taunt. Monta finger-gunned and winked.

“Ha, as if you could stop me there, either. We beat your sorry asses  _hard_ in our _first year_ ,” Monta pointed out just as cocky.

“And yet you lost the Rice Bowl this year, for the second year. How shameful,” Taka sighed.

“Oi! You assho-” Monta threw the bottle mid-word. Taka’s eyes widened in concern, half out of his seat before the bottle even left Monta’s hand. Luckily, the bottle managed to smack into Monta’s own face and he fell off the bed with a loud crash and yelp.

Taka pressed his fist to his mouth, but it couldn’t completely muffle the laughter spilling out of him.

“Yugg id up, ya jerg! I’ll gigg yer ath… ath thoon ath mah nodse thtops bleedung.”

Taka outright guffawed, leaning against his desk to stay upright. Monta just glared and pinched the bridge of his nose, reaching for the wobbling pack of tissue Taka handed over.

* * *

 

The train ride to Osaka was probably the most comfortable Monta had ever experienced. Taka _always_ travelled first class to and from his home. When Monta was booking his own ticket, trying to coincide with Taka’s as closely as possible, Taka had merely booked another first class seat next to his. Then, he waved off all of Monta’s protests and shoved a football in his face the next time they met in person to keep Monta from promising to pay him back. Luckily, Taka wasn’t the sort of rich where people were paid to carry his bags, instead just carrying his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. They also took the subway to his house rather than some fancy European car picking them up. All this combined had Monta feeling pretty good about visiting. He’d been worried a bit, like Sena had been the first time he went to visit the Shins, but other than the first class ticket, everything was pretty normal.

Taka probably shelled out the extra cash just because the first class cars were quieter and he could read better. Not that Monta could blame him; he had no idea how he’d ever travel regular coach after the comfy, giant seats of first class and the extra clean restrooms.

They walked along the sidewalk, a wall extending high above their heads and blocking the residences from view. Monta waved and greeted everyone they passed, since they’d all done the same first. Say what people will about stereotypes, Osakans were definitely better at being neighborly and friendly. Taka acted more like a Tokyoite than Monta, blithely keeping his gaze lofty and avoiding eye contact. Monta dropped a waving hand and turned- only to flail and stare up and down the sidewalk wondering where the hell Taka had flown off to because he was suddenly alone.

“What the crap? I knew it. He actually learned to fly, it was only a matter of time,” Monta exclaimed aloud, tilting back his head to stare upward.

“You idiot, this is my house,” Taka retorted from behind Monta. The Enma receiver spun around, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning crookedly.

Then, his jaw dropped. His bag slipped slowly and fell with a thud to the pavement. His eyes bulged from their sockets as they looked up and down, up up and down. Taka was standing just inside the arched gateway, hand on the lintel and head ducked just under it- because of course he was too tall for the doorway- and exasperation clear on his face.

“Let’s go, or my father will see us and come out.”

“But… it’s… a castle…” Monta stammered. Taka sighed.

“It’s a house.”

“No, dude, _that’s_ a castle.”

“It’s not a castle. It’s a house. A big house, but _just a house_. Hurry up, or he’ll come out and hug you on the sidewalk.”

“Bro… _bro_ , you live in a castle. _I’m_ going to live in a castle for three weeks.”

“Taro, Raimon, get in here right now or I’m carrying you. Don’t call me bro.”

Monta snorted so hard it hurt, but picked up his bag and stepped over the threshold- toes catching and making him stumble the rest of the way inside. Taka swung the door closed and latched it with obvious relish. His hand gripped the back of Monta’s neck and guided him up the pathway to the front door. The whole place was… was _shady_ , patches of sunlight just big enough to lie in here and there. Mostly it was just _trees_ , trees all fluffy and green on top, a few with branches that hung down covered in purple flowers in the sunniest parts of the yard. Flowers that had either wilted for summer or hadn’t yet bloomed were tall green stalks along the path, and neatly pruned shrubs lined the wraparound porch. Taka looked infinitely more relaxed than Monta had ever seen him, a pleased little smile hovering around the corners of his mouth.

“I was worried I might miss them this year. Having you come to visit gave me an excuse to return in time,” Taka said quietly. Monta’s eyebrows jumped up high.

“Miss what?”

“The wisteria,” Taka answered. An answer still utterly mystifying to Monta.

“Is that a flower? It sounds like a flower,” Monta muttered, eyeing the grassy lawn and looking for what Taka could be talking about. Taka opened his mouth, hand lifting towards the trees, when the front door flung open.

“Hn,” Taka grunted, pasting on his most disgruntled face.

“Honjou-sensei!” Monta exclaimed as the big man in question- his face almost hidden under the wild beard he’d grown this year- stepped onto the porch. He flung his arms wide, hairy face beaming and joyous.

“My son! My son-in-law!”

Monta burst out laughing and bounded up the stairs. They exchanged manly, back-slapping hugs that were a little too tight and hung on a little too long, and they _totally_ weren’t teary-eyed when they parted. Both of Honjou’s big, bearlike paws clasped Monta’s shoulders and Monta let himself be hauled around as Honjou checked him over with a critical eye.

“Taka was right, you wore yourself out this year. Whenever you’re not at the offices, you’ll be _resting_ here, you hear me, son?” Honjou ordered, eyes kindly and caring. Monta had to twist up his face to keep from getting _more_ teary. It was always so overwhelming having all that approval shining down on him and hearing Honjou call him _son_.

“I’m fine, Honjou-sensei! I’m probably gonna sleep for a whole day as soon as I go to bed, but I’m _max_ refreshed right now!” Monta held up a flexed arm and bared his teeth in a grin. He almost barrelled into a wall at Honjou’s enthusiastic backslap.

“That’s what I like to hear. Except for that sensei nonsense. I thought I said to call me Masaru?”

“Ah- uh-” Monta hedged.

“Father, you’re blocking the entryway,” Taka interjected, acknowledging Monta’s look of relief with a raised eyebrow. His features fell into mild irritation when his father swept him up into a two-armed hug, spine cracking and arms pinned to his sides.

“Taka! You look healthy as a horse as usual. No burning the midnight oil for my prodigal son,” Honjou noted, proudly ruffling Taka’s hair. Monta slapped a hand over his face to hold in the ugly snorts. A disheveled Taka looked a whole lot like a grumpy, blow-dried cat.

“It’s called time management,” Taka replied shortly, ducking out from under his dad’s hand. “I should take Raimon to his room. You _did_ get it ready?”

“I’m not senile, son. I decided to go with the guest room next to yours, where Yamato used to stay,” Honjou informed them. Taka nodded and walked into the house. Honjou looked to Monta. “I wanted you closer to my room, it’s closer to the front of the house, but Taka chose the rooms closest to the back when he was thirteen and we moved here. He was too grown up to even be on the same side of the house as his father,” the ex-baseball player explained despondently.

Monta frowned. “This is really a castle, right?” Honjou tossed back his head and laughed. “What?!”

“Raimon, you’re going to get lost if you don’t hurry up.”

“You said this wasn’t a castle!” Monta hollered back, hitching up his bag and chasing after Taka’s retreating back. “If you can get lost in it, it’s a _castle_ , bro.”

“I said, _don’t call me bro_.”

“Bro, this is gonna be a long three weeks if you say that every time.”

The echo of Honjou’s renewed laughter faded slowly.

* * *

 

The first day in Osaka had been an easy, leisurely one. After a small lunch (which to anyone else was the size of a full dinner. Yay amefuto players' endless stomachs. Even Taka could put a surprising amount away), Honjou forced Taka to help him show Monta around. First driving him to an actual castle, the Osaka Castle, which Monta spent the whole time comparing to the Honjou residence and discussing ‘renovations’ in a loud snooty voice while Honjou played along and called everything _quaint_. Then, they went to Tsutenkaku Tower, just to compare everything to Tokyo Tower in voices that _echoed_ \- Taka had to forcibly push them into the elevator before some hot-tempered Osakan started throwing projectiles (a few already tried, and had gotten visibly livid when Honjou and Monta had easily caught them and tried to ‘kindly return them’). Then, just after the sun had set, Honjou managed to get them straight to the front of the line and onto a Doutonbori canal boat just as the all the lights of the city and canal blazed to life. Monta wended and twisted his way back and forth over the deck of the ship, looking from one shore to the next and unable to stand still. He’d done the tourist thing a bit the few times he’d come in the past, but normally they came for amefuto related reasons and hadn’t had a lot of time to _really_ sightsee. He took picture after picture of the entire afternoon, lots of them awkwardly angled selfies with the men much taller than him squeezing into the frame (Taka very reluctantly). After the canal, Honjou took them to a classy, famous sushi restaurant and dared the younger men to try the _fugu_. Taka had kept a perfectly stoic face, neither disapproving nor rhapsodizing over it. Monta had promptly spat it back out and stared at the sashimi platter with a green face.

Honjou just grinned and waved down a waiter to send the leftovers to his house and took them to a hole in the wall okonomiyaki restaurant with questionably dirty chopsticks but very clean spatulas and griddles. Monta learned how to eat like an Osakan, forgoing the chopsticks and eating straight off the paddle- and burning his lips in the process. Taka had protested leaving the classier restaurant for a _dive_ , but he ate like his father and Monta- straight off the paddle and in large, steady bites. Unlike Monta, he was expert at it, lips and cheeks unburnt and face clean of sauce.

Monta was gaping at his technique, flecks dotting his cheeks and bottom lip burnt red, when Honjou cleared his throat.

“There’s still a lot to see, and we didn’t even have a whole day to see it all,” Honjou began. Monta nodded and shovelled in more okonomiyaki, hissing through his teeth at a new burn. “There’s Umeda and Taka’s favorite, the Botanical Gardens, and the Ferris Wheel and Aquarium, but… I think I have the perfect last thing. We have a few more weekends to fit in everything else. At the very least, Taka could show you around again.”

Taka shrugged noncommittally. His focus was very centered on cooking his last okonomiyaki perfectly.

“Where’re we gonna go?” Monta questioned around a too-full-mouth. Taka sighed and slapped a napkin over Monta’s face.

“No one wants to see that.”

Monta sputtered and grumbled, but wiped off his face and swallowed before opening his mouth again. “Honjou-sensei?”

Honjou, instead of answering, was leaning his bushy chin on his interlaced fingers and smiling mysteriously at both of them. Brown eyes twinkled, something like his usual mirth, but also something… _different_. Monta frowned, perplexed at the strangely thoughtful look.

“It’s a surprise, actually. Finish up, boys, and let’s head out.”

“I’m twenty-one, father. Raimon is twenty. We’re not exactly boys,” Taka replied as he smoothly lifted the last okonomiyaki onto the spatula.

Monta eyed it wistfully. With an eye roll, Taka set it back down, cut it neatly down the middle, and scooped up half. With an exuberant crow, Monta snatched up the rest. All done without a word exchanged between them.

Monta didn’t notice the gleam get _gleamier_ in Honjou’s gaze. Dinner ended soon after and they bundled back into the car.

To end up here, like this--

“I don’t see why I have to do this. This is your idea,” Taka said, voice obviously exasperated.

“Even blind, I can tell what your face looks like, Tak. Stop being such a spoilsport,” Monta scoffed, flapping his hand in what he hoped was Taka’s direction. His hand met chin and he was rewarded with Taka’s undignified huff-grunt sound of surprise. Monta snickered. Something creaked ahead of him and a heavy door swished open.

“You two stay here, I’ll be right back. Don’t you drop your hands, Taka, until it’s the right time. I’ll be very disappointed if you ruin the surprise,” Honjou warned. The sound of his footsteps, loud and echoing, quickly faded into the distance.

Wherever they were, it was… big. And kinda cool but stuffy at the same time. There wasn’t a lot of breeze, so they couldn’t be outside? But there weren’t any people around, so what kind of huge building was without _people_? Monta scowled under Taka’s patiently still hands.

“Bro, where are we?” Monta hissed.

“My father is nowhere near. _Why_ are you whispering,” Taka replied, nonplussed.

Monta gesticulated wildly and uselessly. “I dunno! It seems like a good idea!”

Something thudded, like loud muffled clacks, and light seared through Taka’s fingers over Monta’s eyes. Monta squawked in surprise and wondered why the sound seemed so familiar.

“Walk forward, Raimon, carefully. There’s a step- good.”

“Is that astroturf?”

Taka made a slight, impressed sound, but didn’t agree or disagree. A suspicion entered Monta’s head and a grin began to spread across his face.

“Close your eyes, and then open them,” Taka instructed. Monta quickly squished his eyes closed and Taka’s hands fell away. The Enma junior blinked his eyes open before Taka’s fingers were completely away and outright gasped.

“Kyocera Dome! I knew it!” Monta exclaimed, jumping and whooping in the air. He laughed when his whoop echoed and was immediately followed up with a yell from somewhere in the stands- obviously Honjou. “This is the best!”

He spun around to see Taka actually smiling, hands shoved in his pockets. “It’s not bad. I’m pretty sure my father’s bringing a ball and mitts.”

“Holy _shit_! We’re gonna play catch with your dad in _Kyocera Dome_?” Monta repeated, grabbing Taka’s arms tightly and not-quite shaking him. Taka huffed.

“ _You’ll_ be catching. I suggest you roll the ball to my father or me,” Taka advised seriously, though the teasing glint in his eye was too much like his father’s and gave him away.

“Ya jerk!” Monta shouted, leaping up high enough to lock an arm around Taka’s neck and drag him down to Monta’s height. Taka grunted, grabbing at Monta’s startlingly strong arm, but letting his hair fall to cover his face. The sounds coming from underneath the screen of ivory hair was definitely not the choking sounds Monta was trying to achieve. It was definitely laughter- at Monta’s expense. He re-doubled his efforts, knuckles digging into Taka’s hair while Taka tried in vain to pull Monta’s arm away.

In the middle of Monta’s smug laughter, Taka gave up on his current plan and just went for a tackle. Monta yelped, air punching out of him the minute arms crashed around his torso, and they both fell _hard_ to the turf. It became a tangle of limbs and fists- mostly Monta’s while Taka deftly avoided blows and caught elbows- until someone over them cleared their throat loudly.

Both “not boys” looked up, red-faced and wheezing, to see Honjou smirking down at them. “You do realize this is a _baseball_ diamond, not a _gridiron_ ,” he mocked haughtily.

“He started it!” Monta cried. Taka deadpanned up at Monta, clearly unimpressed.

Mitts hit their faces and made them shout in protest. Monta scrambled off of Taka with indignant sputters while picking up a mitt off the ground for himself. 

“Get off your lazy butts and play ball, _boys_.”

“Please, don’t try and teach Raimon how to throw,” Taka pleaded, getting to his feet and patting at his clothes.

“I can learn! I’ve gotten better!”

“You bloodied your nose, _two days ago_ , with a water bottle.”

“Ah, well, it was a bad day.” Monta shoved the mitt on his hand, sullen and pouting. A baseball flying towards his head broke through the sulks and an impromptu- and inevitably wild- game of catch began.

* * *

 

Monta’s first few days at his internship were both exciting and _boring_. As an intern, he basically kept the coffee pot full (which was harder than it sounded, these people were _exhausted caffeine addicts_ ) and did a whole lot of filing. So much filing. He made copies and ran missent mail to the right inboxes and shredded papers upon papers. Every evening back at the Honjou house had him yawning through dinners and movies, but with enough energy still buzzing through his veins to go jogging with Taka or video-gaming with Honjou. Then, came his first field day (the day he shadowed his trainer doing field work). The morning was dedicated to a senior homeless shelter, something Monta was a little familiar with thanks to the soup kitchen volunteering he kept up with Mamori. They made rice in a pot the size of the bathtub, and miso in another, and grilled so many fish, they probably could’ve repopulated a small lake. Garlic-smothered vegetables were cooked in giant pans, and everyone had to wear hairnets and mitts. It was… sad… seeing all those hungry, dirty, old people and knowing they had nowhere else to go, but most of them smiled at him, commenting on seeing a ‘new face’, and thanking him, even with a simple grateful-sounding grunt. Not all, but most.

But then he went to a kid’s home. The house mom was run-ragged with permanent bruises of missing sleep under her eyes. The kids wore clothes that didn’t quite fit, and slept too many to a room. Sure, they had their own futons and a roof over their heads and they went to the nearest public school. But everything was secondhand and hand-me-downs, even their textbooks. They lit up when he re-inflated their old soccer ball and ran around hollering and cheering for them. He learned their names, but not their stories, and saw the distrust and anger lurking in the older kids’ eyes.

Teens just a few years younger than him. Stuck in a system that told them to be grateful for the scraps they got. Kids even younger who talked about their dreams like some kids talked about Santa Claus; a nice story that wasn’t real.

The last few hours in the offices were a blur of paperwork and coffee mugs; and he barely even noticed the long walk back to the Honjou house.

A house even bigger than the group home with so many fewer inhabitants inside. The irony burned in his stomach like a hot knife, and Monta stood on the porch listening to the wisteria rustling in the evening breeze and staring at the door knob. The door moved on its own to reveal a concerned-looking Taka, running shoes on and house keys in hand.

“Raimon!” Taka blurted in confusion. Raimon started in shock, eyes wide and glassy. “Raimon,” the older receiver repeated much softer and kindly. “What are you doing out here?”

“I…” Monta broke off and shook his head. “I just got lost. In my head, I guess. I… when did I get here?” he muttered, heavy brows contracting close and low, honestly baffled as he looked around himself. Concern morphed into outright worry and creased Taka’s normally unruffled, placid features.

“It’s time for dinner. Come on,” Taka said, hand gripping Monta’s shoulder and guiding him in.

Silence reigned at the dinner table. A few times Honjou, even Taka, attempted to break it. But their sentences petered out quickly and awkwardly at Monta’s uncharacteristic quiet. He wasn’t even eating like he usually did. Nothing had ever affected his appetite like this… maybe back when he first realized the game against Teikoku was against his role model’s son, that was the closest comparison to the crushing weight in his chest now. Time and time again, he’d raise his chopsticks and forget halfway, just setting them back down listlessly. A few times, he’d even gotten the chopsticks to his mouth only to bite down on wood, food having long fallen off slack chopsticks.

Monta finally set the chopsticks aside and got to his feet. “Thanks for dinner, but I need to go sit for a minute,” he mumbled towards the table. Honjou and Taka exchanged fleeting glances, perplexed and needing extra time to sort out what Monta said.

“Yes, of course, should I save it for you?” Honjou asked, half-rising.

“Uh, yeah, that’s… I’ll probably be hungry later, right?” Monta agreed, rubbing the back of his neck and chuckling awkwardly. He bobbed his head in a strange bow-like motion and then trudged away. His shoulders rose up high around his ears, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

He hadn’t had a destination in mind when he gave up on trying to eat and left. Hiding in a corner somewhere wasn’t really his style either. He’d always preferred the outside, and that’s where his feet led him. There wasn’t a lot of sunlight left, the sky bathed in orange and pink by a sunset he couldn’t see, and he shuffled down the steps into the backyard. Unlike so many Japanese houses, there was a huge swatch of open field out back. Not a koi pond or fountain or tree to disturb it, just gently swishing grass and the clean, fresh smell of dirt under his house slippers. He went straight to the middle of the lawn, kicked off his slippers, toed off his socks, and sunk his bare, wiggly toes into the cool grass.

With a groaning sigh, he flopped onto his back, breath gusting out of him as he hit the dirt hard. Sooner or later, one of them would come out, but right now it was him and the grass and the sunset and the trees along the edges of the yard. The rustling of leaves was a white noise that melted into his head and pushed out all the wordless thoughts in there. Finally clearing it out so he could _think_.

“This is what melancholy is,” Monta whispered to himself.

A shadow fell over him and Taka’s face, mouth quirking up, looked down at him. “I see you pay more attention than I give you credit for.”

Monta’s smirk mirrored Taka’s. “Just a little.”

Taka slowly lowered down to the grass and wrapped his arms around his knees loosely. “Your field practicum today?” Taka prompted quietly. The smirk died away and Monta threw his arm over his eyes.

“At the old folks’ place… we were there to feed ‘em, yanno? I'm used to that, it's sad, but it's almost expected. It was a soup kitchen and these poor homeless grampas, even grammas, come in and they’re hungry, but… those kids… at the home...” Monta trailed off, teeth gritting painfully, tightly enough to creak. “They’re fed, but they looked at me like they were hungry, too, Taka. And I didn’t know how to help. There’s nothing for me to _do_. No matter what I do and how much I give, there’s never gonna be enough.”

“Raimon.”

“No, you don’t get it!” Monta burst out, hand clenching into a fist and pounding the ground. “I thought I was an adult. I thought I made this _choice_ and it’d mean something," he spat, a trail of wet heat sliding over his cheeks, tickling through his hair and pooling in his ears. "But I’m just a kid, Taka. I look at them and I just… I feel…” Monta choked on what he felt, what he didn’t have the words to describe.

“Humble.” Monta sniffled hard and rubbed at his face. When he finally blinked over at Taka, the older man was staring into the distance solemnly. “It’s as if all the advantages and gifts you’ve been given mean nothing. You’re small pebble against the tide of the ocean.”

“Yeah.” Monta pushed onto his elbows and stared down at his dirty bare toes. “Yeah, that’s it.”

“Does this mean you want to give up?” Taka’s voice was tonelessly, carefully neutral.

But the words still put Monta’s back up. He’d never given up on anything in his life. Only baseball, and only because he could still be the _best catcher_ in Honjou-sensei’s memory in amefuto. And because the Devilbats had _needed_ him in a way baseball hadn’t.

“...If it means I can make even the smallest difference… if it means they can smile just one more time that day because of me… I can’t give that up. I can’t stop because it’s hard, right?” Monta whispered, feeling in his gut the answer but wanting to hear Taka say it out loud.

Taka turned to him with an enigmatic, but soft smile. “You’re a better man than I, Raimon Taro. You’re more selfless and stronger. However,” Taka paused and reached out to grip Monta’s shoulder tightly. “Don’t forget to take care of _you_. If you give all those that need your help everything of yourself, what will be left for the rest of us who care about you? Leave us something to care _for_ , when you’re weak or unsure, we’ll be here.”

Monta grinned bashfully and ducked his head. His nose stung and his eyes burned, but the helplessness that had been dragging him down- _a pebble in the tide_ \- was ebbing away. “Yeah… I can do that.”

Taka’s hand squeezed once more and fell away. “Shall we stay out here a while longer, or go inside?”

Monta scratched his cheek and cast his eyes heavenward. “Maybe out here a little while longer, but… uh… when we go in… maybe we can hang out and watch a movie or something? I’m not ready to think just yet.”

“When are you ever ready to _think_ , Raimon?”

“Hey! See, that’s a joke! A really bad joke! You bastard!” Monta laughed though, carefree and light.

* * *

 

The last thing Monta remembered was watching some old One Piece re-runs (not Taka’s choice). There had been a guzzled-down cold dinner, getting changed into pajamas, and crashing in Taka’s room to talk him into watching anime all night. There had been arguing over the usefulness of different Straw Hat talents (stretchy limbs versus sword skills, etc) a few episodes later, and then…

Monta moaned under his breath, eyelids squeezing even closer together at the burning red light seeping past the skin into his retinas. Sleep. He must’ve fallen asleep. He couldn’t remember leaving the room, but he must’ve, because he was in a bed, not on the floor or couch. His limbs were sprawled spread-eagle over the bed like usual, and he was definitely flat on his back. Check check check.

_So what was different? What was wrong?_

His chest rose with his breath and it felt… heavy. And something was all twisted around his arm and on his shoulder. And he was really really warm. He always managed to kick his blankets off in his sleep, so he normally woke up pretty cool. But a whole side of him was _hot_. The heavy side, actually.  Smacking sticky lips together, he willed his eyes to open. It took even more willpower to open them enough to _see_ and then crane his neck awkwardly to look down. To his chest.

Where pale hair gleamed.

Monta’s eyes darted up to the ceiling, almost bulging out of their sockets, and yeah, definitely not sleepy anymore. Passing out on Sena’s or Riku’s bed after marathonning some show all night-  _that_ he was used to. They were roommates, and Sena had been his bestie since they were fifteen. But he and Taka had never crossed this line before. It was _different_ with Taka. They didn’t even really _hug_.

And now Taka was pressed up to his side, head resting in that space between chest and shoulder, one arm laid across Monta’s torso, one leg pinning Monta’s underneath. Monta’s tanktop he wore to bed had ridden up his stomach- which, yeah, that normally happened, but _normally_ a hand wasn’t splayed over the muscles of his stomach and the band of his boxers, too!

Why was this so weird?! Why in the world was he freaking out this bad!? They were two bros, watching anime, and they passed out in the wee hours of the night-morning. So they woke up in a strangely homoerotic position. Psshh, who cares? Just shake it off, Monta, let’s go.

But, despite his _max logical and awesome_ argument with himself, he was frozen. Stuck to the bed, body pinned down by Taka’s weight that was heavier than it ought to be, and every point of contact _burned_. Blood rushed to Monta’s face, making him dizzy and flushed. Finally- _thank God finally_ \- Taka murmured drowsily and shifted. The weight lifted and Taka’s hand dragged over Monta’s stomach _agonizingly_ slow. Goosebumps followed in the wake of that _damn hand_.

“Hn.”

Monta jerked his head to side to stare dumbly over at the sleepily blinking Taka. Whose hair was a unruly fluffy mess, falling into his eyes and over his shoulders. Monta’s hand twitched at his side, fighting an insane urge to reach up and _touch_. When the Saikyoudai player yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth automatically, the baggy shirt he wore (with equally baggy sleep pants, he’d admitted to running cold in sleep) slipped and- no

No

 

No way

 

Not happening

 

Monta was _not_ in this kind of movie.

Taka’s bared neck and bared shoulder should not be sending heat into the pit of Monta’s stomach like the taller receiver was the hot chick in a romcom. Monta’s mouth should _not_ be going dry at the sight of Taka’s hand running through his own hair, pushing it out of his ridiculously perfect face. The heat in his belly should not be pooling _lower_ , tightening and tugging in his gut into all too familiar ache that boxers would _not_ be able to hide.

Monta sat up abruptly, knees lifting and heart pounding too fast in his chest.

 “Feeling better after a night of badly drawn cartoons?” Taka drawled, voice hoarse and deeper than usual.

Monta was gonna crawl into a pit of despair and die because his dick was doing things it _shouldn’t be doing_. ‘Cause Monta was _straight_ and a deep manly voice should _not_ be doing things to him! Or his dick!

“Y-Yeah,” Monta croaked.

Taka’s eyebrow rose as he swung his legs off the bed. “No argument that anime is not cartoons? That I just don’t understand artistic _style_?” he asked in bemusement.

“I-I- yeah, all that, just- sleepy. Can’t think good in the morning,” Monta stammered and forced out. Taka shook his head and his mane of pretty pale hair slid over the ball of his shoulder.

Broad shouldered. Muscley bicep, look at those guns. Very _dude_ shoulder.

 _Dude, not a girl, dude_ , Monta repeated in his head like a mantra.

Without another word, Taka stood and headed towards the bathroom. Frozen once more and knees bent to hide his lap, Monta breathed a silent exhale of gratitude. Just in time for Taka to negligently pull his shirt over his head and drop it in the laundry basket just inside his private bathroom.

That long sweep of his spine, wide shoulders narrowing into a deceptively slender waist, the dimples in his lower back- all leading like an arrow pointed down to a high, tight ass under baggy pants. The door closed on Monta’s wild- and wide-eyed gaping, to both his relief and agony.

In a flurry of blankets, Monta scrambled to the edge of the bed, tripping and flailing with a painful thud to the hardwood floor. He was on his feet and racing with a distinct waddle into the hallway before Taka even re-opened his bathroom door in concern at the noise, toothbrush in his mouth.

Monta’s door slammed at his back and he panted harsh and loud into the blessed privacy of his guest room. Distantly, he could hear the water running for Taka’s shower, but _he was not thinking of his good buddy Taka naked. Nope._

‘Cuz Monta was straight and there wasn’t anything pretty or sexy about men, nope. He valiantly ignored his dick- which had completely different ideas- and told himself it was obviously a fluke. He was twenty, a virgin, and morning wood, _okay?_ No telling what was happening with that. Yeah, that was it. That was _all_.

A fluke. 

  
Definitely.


	2. Everything Will Be Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to the [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEi1IAb7S9DjMsgAEEMJYGCt6ECaEYiXt)! Also, thanks to [QueenSchnee](http://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSchnee/profile) for the awesome idea! It really helped get the flow of the story going! <3 I hope it lives up to your expectations, m'dear~

Monta’s last day of work ended and the weekend began with a bang. Almost literally (one of the songs they chose had the word ‘bang’ in it a lot), because Honjou-sensei had shown up outside the social services offices with Taka in tow and carted them off to a karaoke bar. Somehow they combined their tiny party of three with a huge group of college kids (already half-drunk by eight p.m.) and Honjou paid for the entire evening of raucous karaoke and beer. By the time they stumbled out to search out fried chicken or ramen, Monta had about ten new friends in his contact list. Although... he couldn’t actually _read_ their names…

He slithered his way into the dining room just a little over an hour shy of noon, still a little grey-faced and green around the gills. Within a second of oozing into a chair, Taka slid a plate and cup in front of him. Breakfast was Western-style-ish, with fried eggs and meat, and some sort of baked brown beans, topped off with toast slathered with jam. The smell of the tea had him reaching eagerly forward, though. After a week of too-strong office coffee, the familiar taste of oolong had Monta sighing happily before digging into breakfast (brunch?) enthusiastically.

“We were worried you’d sleep straight through the day,” Honjou said, breaking the contented silence.

Monta blinked over at the chipper and fresh-faced older man, expression going incredulous. Taka’s eyes were a little red around the edges, but otherwise he too looked ready for a 50-yard dash. Both had plates in front of them (though they were empty), and both men looked and smelled recently showered. It wouldn’t have been so obvious if Monta wasn’t still leaking the smell of cigarette smoke and beer out his _pores_. A ruddy, splotchy flush climbed up the back of his neck to his ears as he abruptly felt distinctly grimy and gross in comparison. He shook his head ruefully, reminding himself internally that neither of them would look down on him for being a little gross. They were _sports’ players_.

He swallowed a too-large mouthful and grinned. “I’m surprised I slept so long. I never do!”

“It was a long night,” Taka acquiesced with a nod, sipping delicately at his own tea.

“So what are you whippersnappers planning for the rest of the weekend?” Honjou joked, eyes glittering down at them.

Monta choked slightly when he tried to laugh while eating, but thumped his chest with his fist to finally reply, “I dunno, play amefuto in the backyard?” He glanced towards Taka expectantly.

“Unacceptable!” Honjou interjected before Taka could answer. The silver-haired young man sighed to himself. “Tak is gonna show you around Osaka, just like we promised. I would go, too, but I’ve got a meeting for some charity I’m sponsoring or donating to, or whatever.” He waved one of his giant bear hands negligently.

“Nah, man, I know you don’t wanna go sightseeing. I’m good to stay,” Monta told Taka with a commiserating sort of lopsided smile. Taka raised an eyebrow at him.

“If either of you would let me get a word in edgewise,” he started dryly, causing Monta and Honjou to grimace apologetically. “I wanted to suggest the same myself. You still haven’t been to Umeda or the Gardens. It wouldn’t be a problem to go together.”

“Sounds great. Take a lot of pictures for me!” Honjou-sensei agreed, getting up and slapping both their backs. Monta grunted painfully.

“We’ll try our best,” Taka retorted, sounding as if he’d do anything but. He looked over to Monta, expression fond and exasperated at his father’s antics, but Monta froze.

Because Taka’s hair was drying mussy and fluffy, and his gaze was half-lidded and still a little sleepy. Because he made direct eye contact and he was  _sharing_ some sort of _moment_ with Monta. Including Monta in his teasing with his father without a second thought.

Ridiculously, Monta’s chest constricted too tight, his heart thudding once and slow against the back of his sternum, and it was hard to breathe. He turned back to his plate, staring at it so desperately his eyes watered with the need to blink. Monta laughed awkwardly at Honjou ruffling his hair, but didn’t actually understand the words the man said before leaving the dining room. Leaving him alone with Taka.

Panic had him surging to his feet, his shifty eyes darting around the room, anywhere but at Taka.

“I shower go- should go shower, now- I mean, so we can go, faster, right,” Monta stuttered stupidly. Then, immediately booked it out of there.

Taka stared after him, frowning pensively. His eyes darted down to Monta’s half-eaten meal and the frown darkened further.

* * *

 

The second week of Raimon’s stay ended a little less theatrically. Which was better in Taka’s opinion. Raimon and his father enjoyed the bedlam of weekend parties, but Taka never had. Give him a good book and some tea, that was by far and large the preferable evening. Rather than crashing some other college students’ party, they went to the movies, spent far too much money on popcorn and candy, and then lit off sparklers in the backyard until late at night. Although Raimon had smiled and laughed, and been loud and exuberant and clumsy, Taka been spent far too much time _watching_. Assessing, as it were.

There was something off about Raimon Taro, but Taka didn’t know _what_. Even worse, he had no idea _why_.

For the past week, Raimon had dodged even the most cursory of touches, where before he would be the first to hold up a fist to bump, a hand to ‘five, and the constant instigator of wrestling and tackling. Whenever he and Raimon were alone- which was a 50/50 scenario, as much as his father enjoyed spending time with them, he was still a very busy man- Raimon would stutter and stumble his way out of the situation; he was tired, or had paperwork to peruse, or just didn’t feel like watching that movie, or playing that game. His eyes never seemed to connect with Taka’s, even though usually Raimon’s railroading, bullheaded personality _required_ eye contact in a way that often made Taka uncomfortable. Raimon bowed too often, said ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you’ too much.

And strangest of all, Taka caught him _staring_. At the table during meals, or during the quiet evening moments. When his father read the paper and Taka read his latest novel, Raimon would have his paperwork spread out over the table, a pen gnawed to flattened stick, but his eyes would flicker over and stop on Taka’s profile. Minutes would go by with the pen hanging from his mouth and his gaze distant but _fixed_ on Taka. The moment Taka rose his own eyes to meet Raimon’s, those dark eyes would go shifty and restless. Glance every which way but in Taka’s direction, until they settled onto his work at last.

Every night, without fail, the pattern would repeat.

Taka woke that Saturday morning after the movies determined to get to the root of it. He had wasted several hours the night before going over and over in his head just when and where this erratic behavior might have stemmed from, and he was sure he had it. Perhaps 80 percent sure. Some of the variables did not quite add up to a sum he was completely satisfied with, but Raimon Taro was a simple soul. No need to make the equation too complicated.

“I was wondering if you’d like to accompany me to Umeda again?” Taka asked Raimon over breakfast. _No need to beat around the bush_ , he thought to himself.

Raimon choked and coughed in shock, thumping his own chest as he wheezed.

“Huh, wha? Again?” he asked, eyes too round and pupils too small.

“Yes, again. Unless you’d prefer another destination? I always enjoy the Gardens,” Taka offered magnanimously. The place didn’t matter as much as the company- which meant _no Masaru_.

As if reading Taka’s thoughts and deciding on the exact opposite, Raimon turned to Masaru with an edgy kind of smile on his face. “Are you gonna come with us this time, Honjou-sensei?”

Taka barely kept from huffing in irritation. Raimon’s enduring admiration for his father continued to be a bane to his existence. His father’s reciprocating appreciation for his protégé would likely mean-

“I think I’ll stay back for this,” Masaru replied, tone carefully blank. Taka looked over at him, mildly surprised and eyebrow rising. His father looked back and- sly and hidden from the Enma player’s view- winked. “Sometimes we old dogs need to rest our old bones.”

Raimon of course protested and laughed at his father’s melodramatics, but somehow Masaru managed to sneak his way out of the expedition without any bruised feelings or raised flags.

Taka couldn’t help but wonder just _what_ Masaru perceived, and just what he was expecting to happen. Something like suspicion clawed in his belly and he glanced back at Raimon. Had his _father_ said something? Gone too far with his teasing? Raimon had always ignored or completely missed any of his father’s jibes about some kind of _more than platonic_ relationship between them, but perhaps his father had pushed it?

When he and Raimon left for their outing a short time later, he sent a warning glare in his father’s direction. Masaru merely grinned unrepentantly and Taka fumed. His latest theory was looking more and more likely, and humiliation and annoyance burned in him.

He always knew his child for a father would be the death of him.

The trip to Umeda was uneventful, but eventful in that fact. Normally, Raimon would chatter away without a care, making a public nuisance of himself and turning a boring subway ride into an experience while dragging Taka along in his high-spirited wake. Instead, Raimon was a cluster of nervous energy and conversation that ground to a halt too fast. Getting to Umeda and taking the elevators up was a relief. (Sadness weighed Taka down at the relief. He’d never felt so uncomfortable in Raimon’s presence and he didn’t like it one bit.)

They stepped onto the observation deck and awe rippled through Taka as it always did without fail. It gasped out of the man next to him on an exhale and those too-large hands shook on the railing. Raimon’s knuckles pulled taut- white and bloodless, but he knew it wasn’t fear that caused it. Taka couldn’t imagine being afraid, couldn’t imagine _Raimon_ being afraid, both just stared, amazed and awestruck, at the tableau spread out beneath them.

“Bro, I know you like the pretty flowers or whatever, but this is my favorite,” Raimon breathed out, leaning forward on his elbows and gazing out over the view. For the first time that week, he was _relaxed_ in Taka’s company. A private sort of smile hovered in the corners of his wide mouth, and his shoulders were slumped into his usual _terrible_ posture.

Taka couldn’t help the smile that tilted up one side of his mouth.

“I thought so. Perhaps the height of the building correlates directly with your own lack of height and your liking of it,” Taka replied wryly.

Raimon punched him in the shoulder with a loud, “OI!” Then he burst into laughter. “Ya jerk! You think you’re so _funny_ , doncha, with your _short_ jokes. Max not cool, bro.”

Taka turned to him, eyes reflecting his mirth and feeling unguarded again at last. Raimon met his eyes guilelessly, somehow frowning and laughing at the same time. An untidy mess of contradictions described Taro Raimon so well, and yet the ever neat and exacting man Taka knew himself to be couldn’t help but be swayed into his orbit, smiling despite all sense.

“I think you laughing negates your argument's point, Raimon. And don’t call me bro.”

Raimon chuckled, thumbing at his nose nonchalantly. “I’ve never been good at making a point. Except on the gridiron.”

“Indeed.” Taka turned back to the landscape, closing his eyes to focus entirely on the feel of sunshine and wind skating over his face, tangling through his hair. He really should dig out a band or his hair would be in knots in no time. He dug through his pockets and went over in his mind just how to switch the conversation into a different, more serious topic, without losing this camaraderie he’d finally regained. “Last week, after your field practicum,” Taka began slowly. He found a band and rolled it between his fingers. _A nervous tic_ , he noted in some bemusement.

“Oh, uh, yeah. No, dude, I’m good, really. Thanks,” Raimon hurriedly stated, hands waving in the air.

Taka scoffed lightly. “Are you really? You’ve been acting unlike yourself all week.” He glanced out the corner of his eye to see something like guilt and _fear_ flash over Raimon’s face. Any and all lightness evaded him then. Just what was Raimon hiding? “I’m worried that perhaps the work is still taking its toll on you.”

“No, no way, man! I love it, I do. It’s still hard, but the paperwork crap is worse. I’d rather be out in the field, spending time with those kids or at the old folks’ home or wherever, even if it _max_ sucks after. I meant it when I said it’s worth it,” Raimon reiterated, firmly. "I actually went to a house visit, and that  _really_ sucked, but I believe in the work they do, yanno?"

Taka nodded, casting his gaze away. “Do you still feel helpless afterwards?”

“Yeah…” Raimon sighed gustily and sunk against the railing. “I wish I could do _more_ , but I’m still just a student. And I still wanna go into the NFL. Sometimes I think, maybe I should just give up that dream, ‘cuz it’s kinda selfish, isn’t it? I could go straight into social work, straight into helping as many as I can-”

“That’s not on you, Raimon,” Taka interrupted. Raimon startled next to him, glancing up at him and then away.

“It is if it’s what I wanna do with my life one day, right?” he disagreed quietly.

Taka pulled his hair up into a ponytail, scowling lightly to get his thoughts in order. “You are not a superhero,” he finally stated at last. Based on the look Raimon sent his way, it wasn’t enough, though. “There’s a reason why superheroes are fictional and no one truly expects anyone else to become one. You’re allowed your dreams, and one day you’ll help others live out their own. Don’t force yourself to give up on yours out of some misplaced sense of responsibility.”

Raimon frowned and scratched his cheek. “I guess this is kinda like the same thing you said last week. ‘Bout making sure there’s enough of me left for everyone to care about?”

Taka nodded in agreement.

“It feels different, though.”

“Nothing is just one thing or another. Everything connects. Just my advice, and hearing it one time, won’t be enough to get through your thick skull, either,” Taka told him with a smirk. Raimon’s loud, offended ‘ _oi_ ’ had the smirk widening.

“I get it. Jeez, I’m hearin’ ya.”

“I thought my father might adopt. Once,” Taka said suddenly, surprising even himself. Raimon stared at him in shock and it took a great deal of effort to shrug nonchalantly. “When I was a child, I remember my father and mother talking about having more kids. He’d always wanted a big family. Then, my mother died.” In his peripheral vision, he saw Raimon’s hand clench around the railing- empathetic and kind, but lost at how to show it. Taka smiled without humor, but with plenty of gratitude at the wordless gesture. “It was just my father and I, with no way of knowing how to comfort the other. Baseball- no, sports, that was how we connected. Him teaching me, and me learning from him, that was how we dealt with our grief and the hole my mother’s death caused. And then one day, too soon, I looked at him and knew I didn’t need him anymore. I think he knew it the moment I did, and I knew he still needed me.”

“Hey, Tak, whatever you’re thinking, your dad is _proud_ of you,” Raimon tried, his hand hesitating in the air before settling on Taka’s arm. Taka shook his head.

“That’s not what I’m driving at. I know he’s proud of me. But we both know that I’ve far surpassed him in skill. No matter how hard he tried, we could never get back to that place where I needed him, my own father. I think he never fostered, or adopted, or even married again, because of that.”

“I don’t geddit…” Raimon muttered, frowning darkly and his nose scrunched up. Taka huffed a self-deprecating laugh.

“My father could never continue on with his life because it would be too much like _replacing_ me. Replacing me with people and loved ones who needed him. As long as he still needed me, we could still, just barely, feel like family.”

Raimon’s hand on his arm squeezed too tight. “Bro, Taka, c’mon. Don’t think like that.”

“I’ve thought like this for years. Every time I go home to that empty house, and see my father alone and without a family he so desperately wanted...” Taka admitted, somethign bitter and self-loathing in his voice despite himself. 

Raimon snorted loudly and yanked Taka around just enough to meet his angry gaze. “You guys are _family_. Honjou-sensei knows it, and I know it, too.” Taka blinked in surprise at the shorter man’s vehemence. “Maybe if you stopped hiding behind your _stupid_ genius, you’d realize you still need your dad, too.”

Taka blinked quickly and then smiled softly. This was a bit more like the Raimon he knew. “It’s an oxymoron to say ‘stupid genius’.”

“Yeah, well, _you’re_ an oxymoron!” Raimon retorted, releasing Taka’s arm to cross his arms over his chest and glare up at him.

Taka covered his mouth with his fist and chuckled quietly.

“You geddit, right? What I’m saying?” Raimon pressed irritably.

Taka nodded. “Yes, Raimon. I understand. Thank you. I’ll consider your advice.”

“Yeah, do more than just _consider_. None of this pityparty crap.”

“Only if you take your own advice. None of this pityparty crap,” Taka threw back, looking rather smug. Raimon’s jaw dropped and he spluttered as he pulled himself back together.

“Now, wait a second, man, this is not the same situation at all!”

Taka just laughed.

* * *

 

Monta scowled up at the laughing Taka, even as his heart felt lighter. He had no idea where this sharing-and-caring moment came from, but it felt nice. Taka almost seemed so aloof and above it all, scraps of his life spilling off the edges that Monta had hoarded like treasures. And then today, for some reason, Taka lifted away some screen and let Monta see a huge glimpse into his past, into his _head_. He was pretty sure it was to cheer Monta up, to show Monta that he wasn’t the only one with burdens, and it was okay to share them.

The shorter receiver watched Taka laugh, his smile hidden behind his hand. His hair was pulled up out of his face and it glinted in the sunlight like real silver. Taka had always been that really beautiful guy that Monta had always been sorta envious of. He’d never be as tall or as handsome, but he was still Taka’s _friend_. Apparently, even his _confidante_.

But as he stared at Taka laughing- the moment stretching on far too long in his head, but ended too quickly- it wasn’t envy squeezing his chest too tight or dewing the palms of his hands with cold sweat or drying his mouth like a desert in the summer.

Eyes too wide and heart beating too fast, Monta thought succinctly,

_Oh shit._

* * *

 

The last week in Osaka was a blur. Monta spent every hour of every day _moving_. He never let up his movement for a second. Because stopping meant thinking. And thinking meant _thinking_.

He was up before Honjou or Taka every morning, rushing through breakfast by the time they made it to the dining room, running off to sort through papers, call his mom, call his part-time job in Tokyo to discuss his schedule, call his current internship to discuss his paperwork and evaluations coming up. He stayed at the office as long as some of the veteran workers, filing and sorting and copying and being more organized than he ever imagined he could be. He even re-ordered the entire system into something easier and faster to search through (he might’ve called Mamori for tips- no, he wasn’t _desperate_ for any excuse to stay as late at work as possible). He got up extra early to run before Taka did, and went to bed almost as soon as he got home- often eating a sandwich or instant cup of noodles at work or on the walk back instead of eating with the Honjous.

Monta knew it was getting bad. That it was obvious and they were getting more and more worried. Not only were they getting worried, the Honjous actually looked downright hurt when Monta turned down yet another movie night, or an offer to play a game.

One evening he came home so late, both were ready to come find him. Only for him to show up and have to explain he’d just been at the train station.

“The train station?” Honjou-sensei repeated, bewildered. Taka was just staring, silent and considering.

“Heh, yeah, I mean, I agreed to take over a shift for one of my coworkers back at the café, so I have to head back to Tokyo a little early,” Monta replied, scratching the back of his neck and staring at the wall just past both father and son.

Taka frowned. “Early?”

“Yeah, like, first thing Saturday morning. Gonna hit the ground running, I guess,” Monta half-chuckled awkwardly.

The Honjous' expressions fell. Taka’s went immediately blank, but Masaru looked heartbroken and confounded.

“I thought the plan was to stay through the last of the weekend?” Honjou exclaimed. Monta dropped his head and scuffed his foot.

“Yeah, but I’ve been gone for three weeks and Sena and Riku were gonna pick up my slack for rent. If I go back, I might be able to pay ‘em back a little sooner.”

“I’m sure they won’t mind waiting, Raimon. They’re your friends,” Taka pointed out tonelessly.

“Yeah, but I’m their friend, too. Least I can do try to pay ‘em back as fast as I can. I gotta… you know, get some sleep before work. So… um,” Monta said regretfully, edging towards the bedrooms.

“Yes, of course. We’ll see you for breakfast?” Honjou-sensei said, a little hopefully. Monta grinned lopsidedly.

“Yeah, maybe. I’ll see if I can stick around long enough.”

 

He hadn’t.

He left for Tokyo by six a.m. on Saturday. He slumped against the window and, even though he tried hard not to, remembered the sleepy, confused looks on the Honjous’ faces just a short time ago. Honjou-sensei had been dejected and baffled, giving Monta an extra-long, too-tight hug, ending it with an invitation to come back to visit as soon as possible. Taka had merely nodded, face carefully stoic, and arms crossed over his chest.

They hadn’t even shaken hands before Monta turned and trudged to the taxi waiting for him (it was too early for the subway and Honjou-sensei had insisted on the taxi).

He groaned as he thumped his forehead against the window. Maybe he could beat the crushing realization of how much that had hurt out of himself.

* * *

As if he were punishing himself, he couldn't get the image of him and Taka up on Umeda's observatory deck out of his head. It was on constant repeat, playing and replaying in his brain until each moment and word was seared into his brain matter. All painted over with too many wistful  _what ifs_. What if he hadn't pulled his hand away? What if he'd slid his hand down down Taka's arm, felt each ridge and bulge of muscle and sinew under the thin cloth of his shirt? How different would holding Taka's hand be from holding Suzuna's had been? Would his hand be warm, like Suzuna's had been? No... Taka was always so cool and calm. His hands wouldn't be hot or sweaty, like Monta's, and they wouldn't be soft and small even though they looked elegant and pale, they'd be callused and rough from amefuto. His grip would be tight and comforting, and his hand wouldn't be dwarfed by Monta's. Maybe it'd sit perfectly in the cradle of his palm. 

And what if they'd kissed? Monta would have to stand on tiptoe to reach- he snorted at the image. Sure he'd only ever kissed one person, but she _had_ at least been shorter than him. How different would kissing Taka be? Would he feel dainty or  _girly_ or something having to be the shorter one? Whenever he used to daydream about Mamori-nee, he'd always imagined himself older and taller. He didn't know how to compute it- until he could. And the flush suffused his face as he pictured Taka leaning down, with his eyes super focused and intense like they could get in the middle of a game and  _that shouldn't get him hot all over_. 

But he could see the way Taka's hair fell around them like a curtain and his fingers twitched. Ached to bury into that soft, pale mass and grip tightly. 

Monta shouted wordlessly and slapped both hands over his face.  _What I doing? What am I thinking!? Stop, just stop, Taro Raimon!_

 _Raimon_ , repeated Taka's voice in his head. No one else, not even his mother (she'd long since picked up his high school nickname), called him Raimon. Only Taka.

He groaned soft and low and, if he could've, he would've sunk even deeper into his bed. Deeper and deeper until he was buried in the damn ground in a hole to wither into a pile of confused, humiliated bones.

A little while later, the bed creaked under him. He dropped his hands onto the bedsheets, but he didn't bother looking over. There was only one person who would be sitting next to him at this point. Plus, Riku was visiting at his parents' for a week before school started up again. The blankets pulled and tugged under him at the movements of the second occupant, until finally, they settled next to him.

Both Sena and Monta laid out on Monta’s bed, hands clasped on their stomachs and their eyes on the ceiling.

“You’ve been back for a couple weeks.”

“Yeah,” Monta grunted.

“You’ve been upset for a couple weeks,” Sena added, voice soft and probing, but also just hanging out there. The questions left unsaid and easily ignored.

Too bad Monta couldn’t ignore them.

“I’m just being stupid. Like usual, right?” he scoffed, throwing his arm over his eyes.

Sena spoke sternly and genuinely, “I’ve never thought you were stupid. Sometimes you _say_ stupid things, but that’s not the same thing,” Monta laughed awkwardly, the sound cutting off too quick. “If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay. I’m here, no matter what you need.”

The sound that escaped Monta sounded a little too much like a sob. He gritted his teeth to control himself.

“How’d you know you were gay?”

There was a surprised intake of breath, quickly smothered. The bed shifted again and Monta could almost see the serious, no-nonsense look on Sena’s face.

“I just… _knew_. It kinda helped that, well, me and Suzuna kinda almost had something, remember? In high school? And then we didn’t and I realized I didn’t feel too badly about it. Then, I realized I’d been so busy chasing after Seijuuro, and that it had hurt so much more when I disappointed him or didn’t see him for a long time than me and Suzuna just _not_ being a me-and-Suzuna, you know?”

“So are you like _gay_ or was it just _Shin_?” Monta asked, voice catching and rising at the end.

Sena turned to face him, Monta could hear his face shifting and the sound of his breath get louder and closer to his ear. Then, Sena looked away again and hummed softly. “No, I’m definitely gay. After realizing how I felt about Seijuuro, I started actually _looking_ and noticing just what I liked to look at. I definitely preferred boys over girls, and I still do. Going to America and joining that club really helped, too.”

“Going to America to figure me out is kinda not an option,” Monta muttered wryly.

This time, Sena turned all the way over, lying on his side and looking directly at Monta’s covered profile. “Monta-kun, what happened in Osaka?”

“I looked at Taka. And then realized I was _looking_ at Taka. Like… like _that_.”

Sena settled his chin on his arms and hummed pensively. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes! I mean, no… but _yes_ ,” Monta exclaimed, throwing up his arms and wriggling around to mirror Sena’s position. “I’m not like you, Sena! I’m not gay! I don’t look at other guys and think they’re hot!”

Sena raised both his eyebrows at Monta. “Is there something wrong with being like me?”

Monta groaned and slapped a hand over his face. “No, you know I don’t mean that!”

“If there’s nothing wrong with me, then there’s nothing wrong with you. Falling in love with your friend, whether they’re a boy or a girl, that makes a whole lot of sense, doesn’t it?” Sena pointed out with a small, much-too-wise smile. Monta peeked out from behind his fingers, frowning.

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout?” he grumbled, hand falling away.

Sena laughed into the sheets and then met Monta’s eyes. “It happens all the time, doesn’t it? Sometimes the best love stories are when two people, who know each other better than they know themselves fall in love. It doesn’t always happen, but it happens a lot. And love that comes from friendship? Those are the stories that last forever.”

Monta’s ears and cheeks heated tomato-red and he stared down at the bedsheets. He plucked at the fabric petulantly. “I never said nothing about love.”

“Were you ever in love with Suzuna?”

Monta stilled, his restless fingers freezing in place. “I… I dunno. I thought maybe I did. Or I could, anyway.”

“So why can’t you maybe fall in love with someone who means just as much to you as Suzuna does?”

“Suzuna has tits, Sena,” Monta responded crassly. Sena winced at the term. Even when pouting and going through a crisis, Monta enjoyed poking at Sena’s politeness.

“Does her or his gender really matter?” Sena retorted, his cheeks red.

Monta frowned. “ _Yeah_ , duh. You’re straight or you’re gay, right? I can’t be in love with a dude if I’m not gay.”

Sena sighed. “Monta-kun, bisexual exists.”

Monta blinked. “Whassat.”

“Do you think any other men are attractive?” Sena asked instead of explaining. Monta wrinkled up his nose and thought hard. He’d thought about it a lot of times, so it wasn’t difficult to reply,

“No, not really. I can tell, you know, he’s a good-looking guy, or a buff dude, whatever. But it doesn’t really do anything, yanno? I’ve never wanted to kiss ‘em.”

“But you think that way about girls?”

“Uh, _yeah_.”

“So maybe, Taka-san is just… special. Maybe Taka-san means so much to you, that you fell in love because he’s _Taka-san_ and you’re _Monta-kun_ , and that’s just all you needed.”

Monta snorted incredulously. “Yeah, right. What is this, some K-drama? A weird manga for girls?”

“Monta-kun, don’t be a jerk,” Sena reprimanded with a frown. Monta burst out laughing even as he ducked his head shamefully.

“Okay, okay, sorry!” Sena moved to get up and Monta flailed up after him. “Wait, wait, dude, I’m sorry, really.”

“I know, I’m not mad,” Sena assured him with a smile. Monta deflated in relief, shoulders slumping. “I just think I can’t really help you.”

“Huh, what? I thought you just did?”

Sena shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe a little. But the only way you’re gonna answer any real questions is by talking to Taka-san.”

Monta paled drastically and gulped. Sena reached over and patted Monta’s shoulder gently.

“I think if you’re honest, to him and to yourself, you’ll find whatever it is you need, Monta-kun. Maybe just… stop seeing the world in shoulds and should-nots, and do whatever it is to make yourself happy.”

Monta gaped at him, thunderstruck by such simple, easy advice.

“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“I guess I did end up helping after all,” Sena joked lightly. He scooted off the bed. “I’ll see you at practice later. And try to call Taka-san soon. Mamori-nee texted saying he just got into town yesterday. Apparently he had a big fight with his dad.”

“ _What_?” Monta exclaimed, flailing his way out of bed. Sena flinched when the reciever thudded face first to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mostly listened to "Chasing Cars" during writing this, but it actually ended up fitting better with "Everything Will Be Alright". Pfft. (Once again, didn't quite get to where I wanted to get. But I liked where this ended.)
> 
> You might think: "omgee, that's way too easy! He just can't get over his gay panic that easily! Ridikkulus!" And you're right. Sena's talk may have lightened the burden a bit, but he's by no means "okay" and totes accepting of himself and his feelings yet. Monta's just not an introspection person. He's a man of ACTION, not FORETHOUGHT. LOL (oops, foreshadowing?)
> 
> I'm gonna try and finish this up tonight or tomorrow (next chapter begins with Taka's POV again!). It's mostly done, actually! XDD I hope you liked it!


	3. Chasing Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know exactly why I’m here!” Raimon accused, his index finger pointing in Taka’s face. He’d have to cross his eyes to see it, Raimon had come so close. The silver-haired man just raised his other eyebrow in response. Raimon snorted bull-like and paced away. “I had to hear from Sena you were back! Through Mamori-nee! And that you had a fight with your dad!” Taka’s eye twitched, but gave nothing else away. Raimon hadn’t even bothered to look over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna, here's a [playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLEi1IAb7S9DjMsgAEEMJYGCt6ECaEYiXt)~

 

The door closed on a too-silent house. It shouldn’t have felt too silent. Weeks would go by without occupants within, and even when they were home, hours would stretch on without words passing between them. Hours where they wouldn’t even see each other. The halls too long and the floors too wide- there was seldom unintentional contact created between those walls.

But as Taka watched Raimon’s wide, bowed shoulders disappear past the gate to the waiting taxi, the silence was unfamiliar. Heavy. Oppressive.

Irrationally, he was _angry_. Angry and confused and without answers. He’d been _so certain_ that talk at Umeda had been enough. They had shared _something_ and for a few enjoyable hours, Raimon had been… _Raimon_. Anger mixed with inner turmoil had Taka burning with the desire to cast blame, point fingers- just, in some way, obtain a response to the _whys_ in his head. With eyes flashing and body taut, Taka rounded on his father. His father with his heartbroken expression. His _guiltless_ expression.

“You just had to _push_ , didn’t you?” Taka snapped irritably. Masaru stared at him, had the gall to even look _baffled_. As if he were the innocent party.

“Tak, what are you talking about?”

“What am I _talking_ about?” the livid footballer repeated incredulously. “You, poking your nose in other’s business where it wasn’t invited. Your insinuations and jokes and _bullshit_ ,” Taka spat. For a moment, a matching anger flared in his father’s eyes and Taka felt smug with victory.

Masaru closed his eyes and took a steadying breath before speaking, “Taka, whatever I may or may not have implied, I never pushed any boundaries.”

Taka scoffed in disbelief. “I noticed all those weak excuses not to come with Raimon and me. Leaving us alone, calling him son-in-law, your irritating _looks_. Raimon may not be a genius, but that doesn’t make him an utter simpleton. You made him _uncomfortable_.”

“I did no such thing!” his father retorted sharply. Masaru held up his hands, mouth in a tight line and a dark scowl on his face. “Monta is a good kid and he would have _told_ me if I crossed a line.”

“Of fucking course you crossed a line!” Taka shouted.

“Watch your mouth.”

“I’m twenty-one years old, Father, please stop talking to me like a child! Stop butting your nose in my business while you're at it. I may be bisexual, but that doesn’t mean you get to set me up with whoever you want and perhaps even ruin a friendship I consider important!” Taka railed, throwing up his arm in useless gesturing. He wasn’t normally one for such theatrics and he dropped his arm with a start. The disconcerting reaction was swiftly forgotten as he glared his father down.

Even bushy-bearded and dark-eyed, Masaru just couldn’t intimidate Taka into submission, especially not at his own level of self-righteous outrage.

“Whatever happened with Monta had _nothing_ to do with _any_ of that, Taka-”

“How would you know? In between the forced dates you didn’t think I noticed and your ridiculous matchmaking schemes, where did you have the time to even ask him? He shut me _out_ , Father. Raimon has never, not once in the five years I’ve known him, shut me out like this. And it’s _your damn fault!_ ” Taka seethed, hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

Masaru’s shoulders slumped and whatever offense he still had left him in a low exhale.

“I swear, Taka, I never meant to push him away. I didn’t think _he_ noticed, though I’m not surprised you did,” Masaru admitted wryly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

Taka ‘tch’ed, pissed and still bristling. “Did it ever occur to you that he’s _straight_? You might have ruined it, Father. One of my best friends, you might’ve just chased away with your _crap_.”

He spun on his heel and strode towards his room. Masaru hurried after him, thundering footsteps on Taka’s heels.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going back to Tokyo.”

“What?! You still have an entire week before you need to go,” Masaru exclaimed, hurt laced throughout the surprise in his voice. Taka didn’t allow himself to flinch at the sound, not physically nor in spirit.

“I can’t even look at you right now,” Taka replied tonelessly. Then, he slammed his bedroom door behind him and locked it with a loud, satisfying click.

Masaru could rot outside his door for all Taka cared at that moment. Not after the fuck up he’d caused.

…there wasn’t any other explanation. Right?

* * *

 

Tokyo air was heavy and humid and smoggy that summer. For some reason, it felt claustrophobic. Tokyo had always been his freedom, almost as much as the gridiron under his feet. Today, though, words on the page swam and blurred, and nothing sunk in. With a disgruntled sigh, Taka cast aside his book and stared out his dorm window. Fortunately, Taka had chosen a dorm that remained opened during breaks- since he’d normally remained on campus for the majority of his vacations- and it hadn’t been that difficult to return to his private dorm as if he’d never left. How unfortunate in comparison that his brain couldn’t return to its usual state of tranquility. A state of being he’d perfected since high school.

But just as it had been in high school, it was Taro Raimon that disrupted his finely-tuned serenity. He’d used the metaphor of a pebble in the ocean with Raimon, but for such a small man he somehow managed to effect the tide that was Taka’s unruffled calm.

Almost a month had passed since he’d come back to Tokyo, yet Taka was no closer to solving his problem. He still had no idea how to approach Raimon, what to say or how to apologize, or even if he should. Should he even acknowledge aloud something that had obviously offended his friend so badly he’d _run away_? Would pretending as though it never happened in the first place be a better tact?

Not that it mattered, because in the past weeks, Raimon had not sent a single text or attempted a single phone call. That last text mocked him from his inbox:

 **Raimon <<** _r u ready 4 a MAX awesome time!1!!!! Osaka or bust bro!!111!!!_

Taka’s lips pinched tight and he tossed his mobile to the bed with a huff.

 _Who knew it’d unravel so quickly,_ he thought, rather melodramatically he couldn’t hep but admit to himself.

Taka got to his feet, running his hands through the thick mane of hair sticking to the back of his neck. He really should get it cut… but Karin and Raimon had both been horrified the few times he’d mentioned it aloud in front of them.

“No, man, bro, c’mon, I’m telling ya, he'll want to see me!” bellowed an outraged voice outside the dorm. Taka turned to the door, frowning in disbelief. There was no way that could be…

“It doesn’t matter, you need to sign in and _call_  the room. You can’t just barge up the stairs!” objected a harried, desperate voice- that was definitely one of the students who worked the desk.

“Watch me!”

The door shook in the doorjamb, the thud of a foot ringing throughout the room. Taka’s eyebrows shot up as he fought the urge to smirk and sigh. The usual accompaniment to the energetic man outside. He was already striding to the door, hand rising, as the Saikyoudai student and Raimon shouted over each other.

“Lemme go! I’m tellin’ ya, he’s my friend. Don’t make me tackle you! I’m an amefuto player, damn it!” Raimon snarled, blacks eyes gleaming under lowered, thick brows. Taka leaned against the doorjamb, arms crossed, and watched the two college students tugging Raimon’s arm like a tug-of-war rope between them.

“He’s telling the truth,” Taka pronounced calmly.

The college _boys_ in the hallway squawked in shock, neither having noticed the door opening in their tussle. Raimon recovered faster and tugged his arm free.

“See, I told ya,” he sneered at the Saikyoudai boy, making an obscene gesture with his hand.

“Raimon,” Taka sighed. Raimon crossed his arms over his chest, eyes shifty and ears ruddy at the tone.

“Whatever. Look, lemme in before this guy doesn’t believe _you_ ,” Raimon demanded shortly.

Taka gestured towards his room with a nod of his head. “Of course.” He wondered if the relief sounded as obvious as it felt.

Raimon stomped past him, sending a glare over his shoulder at the last minute. The other student outside groaned and stormed away, obviously fed up. Taka stepped into the room and shut the door. When he turned, Raimon was already pacing up and down the length of the floor, huffing and puffing and steaming as he was wont to do.

“May I ask what brings you here?” Taka asked coolly. He pulled up his desk chair and sat back, one leg crossed over his knee and one eyebrow arched. It took supreme strength of will not to tap his foot agitatedly against the ground and therefore give away his impatience.

“Ha! _Max_ hilarious, bro-”

“Don’t call me-”

“You know _exactly_ why I’m here!” Raimon accused, his index finger pointing in Taka’s face. He’d have to cross his eyes to see it, Raimon had come so close. The silver-haired man just raised his other eyebrow in response. Raimon snorted bull-like and paced away. “I had to hear from _Sena_ you were back! Through _Mamori-nee_! And that you had a fight with your dad!” Taka’s eye twitched, but gave nothing else away. Not that Raimon even bothered to look over. “Jeez, what the crap, man?! Why didn’t you text me and let me know you came back almost the next day!? I thought you were staying in Osaka all summer!”

Raimon finally finished his railing, large hands dragging through his hair as his chest heaved in too-rapid breaths. Taka exhaled softly and leaned forward, elbows bracing on his knees and eyes meeting Raimon’s squarely.

“Why have you not sent me a text these past weeks?” he returned quietly. Raimon startled at that, rocking back on his heels. His eyes went shifty again, his face paling drastically. Concern fluttered in Taka’s treacherous chest. How was it so much easier to forget his anger for Raimon than for his own father? Why was it easier to just feel _hurt_ rather than fury when facing Raimon? “Why did you leave and act so strangely, Raimon?”

The younger man flinched away and Taka rose as worry overtook him. _What in the world-_ He froze, his hand dropping, when Raimon stumbled to the far side of the room, looking everywhere but Taka and desperate to evade any contact.

Whatever hurt Taka had felt before was nothing compared to _this_.

“Shit, I shouldna come, I’m sorry, _shit_ ,” Raimon muttered, grabbing at his head with his hands and pressing inward at his temples. “I just- your fight with your dad- you _never_ fight- but, this was a bad idea. I gotta go.”

“Taro Raimon, don’t you dare walk out of this room,” Taka snapped. He was _done_ questioning what he or his father had done wrong. Raimon’s breath shuddered out of him, his hands falling uselessly to his sides. “You will explain your actions right now, or so help me, I will _wring_ it out of you.”

Raimon jerked his head up, eyes wide and pupils pinpricks. He looked… _terrified_.

“Whatever it is, is it worth our friendship?” Taka asked, gentling his tone and shuffling forward. He kept his hands raised at his sides, trying not to spook the shorter man into bolting. “If my father was inappropriate, I talked to him-”

“Hey, whoa, wait, what?” Raimon interjected, his features twisted up in bewilderment. “Honjou-sensei? Inappropriate? Like… wait, you think your dad hit on me or something?!” he outright _squeaked_ in horror.

Taka narrowed his eyes, but Raimon just gawked at him, speechless at the _wrong_ assumptions.

“Ah… I suppose I’ll have to apologize to him,” Taka groaned, rubbing his hand down his face wearily.

“ _That’s_ what you and Honjou-sensei fought about!? You thought he came onto me?! Are you _high_?” Raimon spluttered.

“No, I did not think he made advances,” Taka retorted, dropping into his chair. “I fought with him because I thought his matchmaking _nonsense_ had caused you discomfort,” he admitted with another low groan. “He was right. You didn’t even notice.”

“ _Matchmaking_? Your dad?! You and _me_? What? What the hell is going on?” Raimon exclaimed, hands thrown up in the air and eyes wild.

Taka side-eyed him, _hard_. “That’s exactly what I want to know. If my father’s unsubtle attempts to force us into romantic situations went right over your head, what in the _world_ upset you?”

“Bro, dude, I didn’t- He did what? Geez, he couldn’t've just said- it’s not like I needed the help- Oh shit.” Raimon face drained of blood so fast Taka swore he saw him wobble.

But he was too busy staring at Raimon, his mouth dropped open and his own eyes wide. If someone had walked in and slapped him with a 2x4, he probably wouldn’t have been as surprised.

“What did you say.” Taka croaked.

“N-Nothing! Nothing at all! I’m just- yeah, I’m going- your dad’s nuts tell him he’s a nut job totally straight no homo bro right going gotta go, bye!” Raimon gasped out in one long breath, racing towards the door and wrenching it open.

Taka was on his feet, the flat of his hand slapping the door closed so quick that Raimon jerked into the wood with a grunt and a thud.

“Say that again.”

“I didn’t say nothing,” Raimon growled, voice muffled by face full of wooden door.

“You… All the staring-” “ _Shit_.” “-all the avoiding and silences and awkwardness, everything you did… was because you have _feelings_ for me?” Taka said incredulously.

Raimon’s hands against the door convulsed, then curled into fists, knuckles pressing into wood. But he didn’t look up or speak.

“Taro Raimon, if you are half the man I know you to be, you will look at me right now and answer honestly. Do you have romantic feelings for me or not?” Taka demanded harshly.

* * *

 

Monta inhaled sharply, his breath whistling through his gritted teeth. The last thing he wanted to do was turn and look at Taka now. He felt about three inches high, fifteen, and _stupid_. So fucking _stupid_. Not just for the way he’d slipped up and spilled his secret- like a fucking _moron_ \- not just because of that. No, it also because of the disappointed incredulity in Taka’s voice. It was just so _idiotic_. Having the feelings in the first place, freaking out as badly as he did, all of it! This was going to ruin everything- everything they had. No way was anything good going to come of his tangled mess of… of _emotions_ he still didn’t understand.

“Can we go back to your dad hitting on me?” Monta muttered against the door.

Silence waged a war and… lost. Taka slumped over him, their shoulders brushing, as he thumped his forehead against the door and began to laugh. Uncontrollable body shaking disbelieving laughter.

“No, please God, no,” Taka wheezed painfully.

“It’s a lot friggin’ easier,” Monta grumbled irritably. This was _not_ a laughing moment, damn it.

“It’d be easier to deal with my father, who’s twice our age or more, making inappropriate sexual advances than admitting you-”

“Okay, it’s gross, shut up!” Monta snapped, turning around at last and glaring at Taka's chest. “I like you, okay? The way I thought I liked _girls_. I didn’t geddit then, I don’t geddit now, and I’m confused, all right? I ran home like a _sissy_ ‘cause I couldn’t…I couldn’t think… I _can’t_ think,” he blurted it all out at once. For a moment, he felt nothing but _relief_. As if a huge burden had been lifted off his shoulders and he was so much lighter.

In that moment of utter relief, he did something utterly stupid. No surprise.

He looked up too soon… and saw the pity flash in Taka’s eyes.

Something cracked in Monta's chest and he knew that whatever those feelings were, however confusing they were, they were _big_. Really fucking big and important. And he was going to lose something amazing before he even got to try.

Taka’s mouth opened, his face that careful neutral mask, but Monta did not want to hear it. In fact, it was the _last_ thing Monta would ever want to hear.

“No, fuck you, don’t you fucking say _anything_!” Monta snarled, shoving his palms against Taka’s chest. The Bump technique came so easily to him, he hadn’t even realized the power he’d put into that until the taken-off-guard Taka was flying across the room. The back of his knees hit his bed and he went down hard on his ass onto the mattress. “I don’t want to hear it! Whatever bullshit fancy words you’re gonna say to make me feel better. I’m leaving, and don’t you text me or call me unless it’s about _anything_ else!” Monta ordered, his hands shaking- no, his whole body was shaking. His eyes were burning and he reached up to scrub at them with the back of his wrist.

“A-All right,” Taka murmured. So softly, Monta could barely hear it.

He ripped open the door and flung himself outside. Only to wheel back in and raise a finger in Taka’s direction. With red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes, he snapped, “Call your dad and say sorry, you _idiot_ ,” then he slammed the door and …

Got the fuck outta there.

* * *

 

_“I like you, okay? The way I thought I liked girls. I didn’t geddit then, I don’t geddit now, and I’m confused, all right? I ran home like a sissy ‘cause I couldn’t…I couldn’t think… I can’t think.”_

_His eyes were warm and light._

No, that’s wrong.

_His face got closer, hair brushing over shoulders and sliding over his chest, and the silky, wispy weight of it had Monta’s breath catching. It tickled both sides of his face when Taka leaned in close, smooth, cool cheek glancing past his own. Breath rushed over his ear, hot and shiver-inducing, wracking down his spine. But he couldn’t move. His hands wouldn’t lift, no matter how desperately he told himself to go for it, to sink his hands into the soft weight of that silver hair that slid over his goosebump-covered arms._

This isn’t how it went.

_“I’ve always been more adept at thinking,” conceded the low, soothing baritone of Taka’s voice. Monta’s throat constricted and his mouth ran dry, so terribly dry. “So don’t think at all.”_

_“I… I could do that,” Monta admitted, licking at chapped, burning lips._

No, I didn’t say that.

_He felt his eyes shutter closed, air whooshing out of him as if he’d been punched in the solar plexus. Hands were braced on his shoulders and that warm breath fanned over his mouth._

_Just a little closer._

_A_ little _bit closer, please._

Monta flung himself out of sleep, sweat running down his face. His thrown away blankets flew into the air and settled over his spread out legs. Panting and gasping, Monta stared into the darkness of the night as his trembling hands twisted into the sheets. Gradually, the mugginess faded into something too wakeful and his face began to crumple. His eyes squeezed tight under eyebrows pulled down low, and his teeth gritted so hard they squeaked, bared by lips drawn back too tight. Then, his shoulders pulled taut and his spine bowed, until he was curled into a loose, shuddering ball, face in his hands. Sweat was slick and slimy against his palms and sliding down his back. Between his bow-legged knees, Bonnkun mewled in sleepy, offended protest before bounding away for a bed that wouldn't flail or wiggle. Monta barely even noticed.

He was too busy cussing a fierce, angry bluestreak in his mind. At himself. At being so fucking _stupid_. For… for _pining_ , that’s what it was called, right?

When you get so hung up on someone every time you fall asleep they’re there? When you pick up your phone because you thought about them- but your last conversation flashes in your head and it cuts into you as deep as when it actually happened? When you miss them all the time and over the stupidest shit? When you catch a difficult pass, or your cat was extra cute that morning, or you finish a book they recommended _ages_ ago, that you totally forgot they gave you, and you just _miss them_?

Everything led back to _him._

A sound worked its way out of his choked up throat, but he refused to call it what it was.

It was sweat, not _tears_.

“You only cry when it’s painful,” Monta whispered to himself desperate. “You only cry when it’s _painful_ , you idiot. Shut up, sh-shut _up_ , it’s not painful. This isn’t _painful_.”

The sweat on his face was hot, sliding over his skin like fire and burning his eyes, his nose, his chapped lips.

“It’s not painful. It’s _not_. You only cry when it’s painful, so _stop crying_.”

He flopped onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. Despite all sense- not that he had much anyway- that stupid scene replayed in his head. With a different ending every time, leaving his heart too tight in a chest that felt ripped open. He dropped one hand to the sheets next to him and stared over at it. 

Not even his dreams did he get to hold Taka's hand.

(His eyes aren't burning.  _Yours_ are.)

* * *

 

A plate appeared in front of his face.

Monta blinked sluggishly, barely moving his head from where it rested on the heel of his palm, his elbow braced on the table and his arm holding up his hand. The blurry substance on the plate finally became scrambled eggs and toast with way too much butter. Just the way he liked it. His stomach rumbled angrily at him. 

A glass appeared next filled almost to the brim with orange juice, extra pulpy.

Then, a banana was laid next to the plate, and a napkin with a fork.

“Whassit?” he slurred. He stretched his neck just enough to look up and see Sena and Riku staring down at him.

Concern was etched into their faces-

_-pity flashed through light brown eyes-_

-and Monta winced, looking down to the plate.

“School starts up again next week, Monta-kun,” Sena said hesitantly.

Riku added in, “You’ve been a fucking wreck even at practice. I think you missed, like, half your passes, man.”

“Not important right now, Rikku-kun,” Sena hissed, jabbing his elbow into Riku’s side. The linebacker flinched and swatted Sena’s arm away.

“Of course it’s important. This numbnuts monkey here wants to get drafted into the NFL. He can’t get lazy in his _third year_ ,” Riku retorted firmly. Sena gnawed on his bottom lip.

The gnawing and the scowling from his roommates worsened when he didn’t jump to offense at being called a monkey. He just didn’t feel like it.

His hand felt heavy and slow, but he lifted it and dragged the orange juice closer. Drinking, eating, blinking- he did it all slowly and listlessly. As if he couldn’t be bothered to do anything he _wanted_ to do. It wasn’t like he wasn’t hungry or thirsty.

He was just so… tired.

Monta sighed gustily as he set down the empty glass and pushed away the empty plate.

“I’ll be fine, guys, but thanks,” Monta told them at last, breaking through their quiet bickering. They jumped guiltily at the realization they’d almost forgotten he was still in the room- although he was still the subject of their argument.

“Monta-kun, if you need anything,” Sena started, stepping forward and bracing his hand on the table. Riku stepped up to Sena’s side with a firm nod of agreement.

“Yeah, Monta, whatever you need.”

The receiver shrugged mutely with a lame attempt at a smile before shuffling away.

He would be. Any day now. Once he could sleep a whole night through, or stop tossing and turning with humiliation hours before his eyes even closed. Once it stopped hurting so much. It was stupid anyway. Hurting this much over a _what if_ he hadn’t even been sure he wanted answered! So effin’ stupid. He and Suzuna _had been_ something. Something pretty great for more than a year! They’d kissed and held hands and one time she even let him touch her boobs. It had been great! But… when they broke up, it had sucked, but it hadn’t sucked _this much_. It had been so easy to slip back into being friends after a few weeks awkwardness that had been simple to hide.

Monta leaned against the balcony railing, forearms pressing into the weak, hollow metal. It creaked beneath his weight, not that he cared much. It had held up far heavier burdens. The sunlight was hot on his face, the sweat beading his skin a fresher kind of sweat than the cold film he’d woken with. Fresh sweat that cleansed away the traces of _gross_ from that night and made his muscles ache to run and jump and catch.

That was probably a good thing. First time he really felt like _moving_ in a while.

Monta slumped down and lay his chin on his crossed arms. His brows crashed down, scrunched low over the bridge of his nose, and his mouth down-turned. He wasn’t just feeling ready to go run around on the gridiron. He was… was feeling… _furious_.

Furious for moping around and doing nothing. Dreams and whining and having friends try to stage interventions he didn’t even listen to? He was _better_ than this. He’d _done_ this when he was fifteen! He wasn’t fifteen anymore, damn it. He was an adult. And Taka was his friend.

He didn’t need to be scared of his friend because he wanted to hold his hand or go on dates or get in his pants- ohkay, stiiiill weird thinking that out loud.

But he did. He wanted to get in Taka’s pants. Monta stood up abruptly, leaned heavily on his hands on the railing, and shouted,

“I wanna get in Taka’s pants!”

“Whoa, Monta. Too much information,” Riku retorted form the couch. The volume on the TV turned up.

Sena ducked around the corner of the hallway curiously. “Did I just hear Monta-kun yelling?”

Monta spun around and pinned his fierce gaze on Sena. “I wanna get in Taka’s pants,” Monta told Sena firmly.

Sena blinked and slowly flushed red. “I-I’m g-glad you d-do? G-Good job f-figuring it out?”

“Whatcha gonna do ‘bout it?” Riku asked, sounding utterly bored and unimpressed. But listening despite how loud the volume was.

“I… I don’t know yet,” Monta muttered, frowning again. He scratched at his nose.

“You could just tell ’im.”

“I think that’s a good idea, too! B-But maybe with different words…” Sena suggested weakly.

Monta pursed his lips, then shook his head. “Nah, you know what? Last time, it just kinda _slipped out-_ ”

“Wait, what slipped out?” Riku asked in fascinated disgust.

“This time, I’m gonna take it by the balls!”

Sena murmured with a wince, “That’s poor word choice, I think…”

Monta’s nostrils flared and he stomped towards the door. “I’m going right now!”

“Wait! Pants! Monta-kun!”

Monta stared down at his boxers and tank-top sleep clothes, and his ears went hot. “Oh, right. AFTER the pants, I’m going to _max_ confess to Taka. Like a man!”

“Like a man,” Riku drawled, a lazy fist thrusting into the air, eyes now on the TV screen.

Monta rushed towards his room, eyes flaming and heart thumping wildly. He had a real confession to make, with his eyes up and his dignity in-fucking-tact. He deserved to say everything he wanted, how he wanted.

What did he want to say? What exactly was he feeling?

Fuck if he knew, but Taka was gonna listen and _like it_. Like _him_. No way would he let Taka turn him down like this. No way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help it. It's 3:30 am but i just had to update this because I fucking love it?!?!?! I FUCKING LOVE WRITING MONTA. THAT ENDING MADE MY DAY.
> 
> LIKE A MAN, MONTA, LIKE A MAAAAN!


	4. Latch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He clutched at the anger with both hands, fed it with his annoyance and desperately ignored the disappointment that weighed down his stomach like he’d swallowed a stone.
> 
> If he’d learned anything today, it was that it wasn’t just a fluke. It wasn’t simple friendship getting mixed up with frustrated libido. This was an honest to God crush. He was crazy about Taka.

As much as Monta like the idea of rushing right into Taka’s dorm again, cornering him where he couldn’t escape, Monta also knew that it might not work again. The guy at the desk had been a total jerk, _plus_ Taka might not even be home. It was midmorning on a Saturday, and knowing Hiruma as he did, the Saikyoudai players were probably doing some exhausting practice regime all day. Maybe since dawn. He had to play this smart.

Monta tugged at his bottom lip, then scrubbed his hands through his messy hair roughly with a groan. He could totally play it smart. Just… give it a second… He blinked quickly and grinned. _Of course_. Monta dug in his pocket and pulled out his phone. If anyone could help, he knew exactly who would do it best. With the speedy agreement and plan put into action, Monta headed quickly to the right place to wait. His earlier impetuousness had already taken him onto the subway and most of the way to the Saikyoudai campus, so he hurried the rest of the way to Taka’s dormitory. Outside the building- because Saikyou was a disgustingly rich campus with an award-winning campus _of fucking course_ \- was a decent-sized quad. A few trees for shade around a wide lawn where a few students were already laid out or sitting, just enjoying the sunshine while chatting or outright napping on the grass. In the height of the semester, Monta knew frisbee and football games (both touch amefuto and soccer varieties) met out on the quad to relieve stress. He’d played in a few himself. Under the trees along the sidewalks were a few benches. The sidewalks themselves were heavy with foot traffic as students moved back into the dorms the last week of the summer holiday.

Monta ducked around a couple of familiar-looking dudes hauling up some boxes. One or two students even waved and shouted his name. ( _When did I get to know these people so well? Do I really come here that often?_ ) He waved them off with a helpless shrug, darting into the shade of the trees to find the specific bench he was thinking of. It was off to the side, near the smaller entrance Taka normally used since it was closer to his room wing. He dropped to the bench with a groan and slumped back, hands over his face as his head reeled. There weren’t even really words in his brain. Or there were _too many_ and he couldn’t separate them out into actual understandable thoughts. He had no idea how he was going to go into this already played-out situation and come out with a different answer. There was a reason Monta was never put forward to be a captain. Why he rarely come up with plans or strategies and, no, it’s not because he’s _stupid_. That’s just not the way he thought. He wasn’t good at persuading people to believe in something different, hell, he found it hard to _persuade_ _himself_ to think something different. What words could possibly explain the mishmash of emotions and feelings in his head, that knotted up his stomach until he could barely breathe? He’d already screwed it up before, he was going to mess it up again… but…

He had to _do_ something.

Quick, but light footsteps approached. Footsteps so familiar and well-known from all the years he’d spent chasing them, barely keeping up and somehow still overcoming- The knotted tension in his stomach had bile rising in his throat, sticking like a rock behind his Adam’s apple. He got to his feet, hands shoved in his jeans’ pockets, grinning crooked and lopsided as Taka caught sight of him and slowed. His phone was still in his hand and the confused irritation seeped away as resignation took its place. He made his way to Monta and stopped with an exasperated sigh.

“You’re behind this, aren’t you?” Taka asked, holding up his phone. Monta had to squint a bit, but made out,

 **Father <<** _I’ll see you outside your dorm ;)_

“Yup,” Monta agreed, rocking onto his heels. “He said you still haven’t called him up to apologize. Max not cool, bro.”

With an unconcerned shrug, Taka clicked the screen black and shoved it in his pocket. “What did I say about ‘bro’?”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Monta continued while totally ignoring Taka. The exasperation completely disappeared. Fortunately, pity didn’t take its place, just a still, blank mask that was completely unreadable. It wasn’t angry, just carefully, completely neutral. Monta swallowed hard and scuffed at the sidewalk. “I...I bailed out real fast last time and I didn’t get a chance to say what I wanted. Not _completely_.”

“Raimon,” Taka said softly, the mask breaking slightly with a concerned frown on his face. “I haven’t changed-”

“No! No, you actually have to listen, okay? You have to _hear_ it!” Monta interrupted harshly, hands balled in fists in his pockets, shoulders drawn up around his ears. But when he looked up, his eyes were blazing- affront and bravado speeding up his heart rate and driving him towards a more bearable anger. “I can’t get it outta my head! I can’t get the picture of you and me _out_!” He blurted, frustrated and desperate. “I think about it all the time! I’m going crazy! And I have to _know_. Because if this-” he broke off and a hand flailed between them. The break from holding himself together had his whole posture cracking, hands flailing or tugging at his hair, feet pacing a short path back and forth. “If this could be _half_ as… as intense as this feels _right now_ , then it could be… _awesome_. It could be the best thing that's ever happened to me. I can’t give up the idea that I’m gonna lose something _great-_ and I… I don’t even get a _chance_ ,” Monta exclaimed, breath bursting out of his chest as he panted. A ruddy flush crawled up his neck and ears as he all but glared at Taka. Surprise had light brown eyes widening and his mouth parting. And Monta could see two different Takas in front of him at the same time.

-His friend and rival. A fellow receiver and athlete who respected Monta and enjoyed his company just as Monta enjoyed his.

-And the new Taka. The one who was suddenly _pretty_ and touchable and had Monta’s stupidly squishy heart beating too fast, too hard.

It made Monta dizzy, drunk on two opposing images he was trying to fit into the same place. But it was the silence that had the bile rising again and his stomach twisting sickeningly.

“Taka, man, c’mon. I know you could get anyone you want, but going on one date with me can’t be that shitty an idea, right?” Monta muttered, scratching at his cheek.

That had Taka moving, a strange aborted movement forward as annoyance broke through his speechlessness. “That is _not_ what I’m thinking, Raimon,” he snapped brusquely. Monta stared at him in shock. Taka shook his head slightly and rubbed his mouth before clarifying with more control, “I should make it clear that I never thought you were unworthy of me or some nonsense like that. If there were a question of worth, then anyone you have feelings for would be a lucky recipient.”

Monta scowled in confusion, pointing his finger right in middle of Taka’s chest. “I don’t get it, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he grabbed Monta’s hand from the air and continued in complete sincerity, “I admire you, respect you, even hold certain affection for you, but I may not give you everything you want from me. As your friend, I do not want to promise what I cannot give.” He dropped Monta’s hand and shrugged a shoulder awkwardly. Taka. _Awkward_.

Monta dragged a hair through his hair, exhaling bull-like though his nose. “All I want is a chance, Tak. I don’t know if I’m gay, or whatever, and you don’t know if you can like me like that at all. So why not just… figure it out together?” Monta groaned and scrubbed the same hand over his face. “Jeez, that was cheesy. I spend way too much time around Shin. Just… I don’t want to give up before trying!”

Taka looked as though the rueful smile that curved up his mouth was despite himself, eyes rolling just barely. “You are quite good at not throwing in the towel. It’s impossible to stop you once you have a goal in your sights.”

Monta’s eyes narrowed even as hope burgeoned in his chest. “That sounds like a yes.”

“I suppose ... it is a yes,” Taka said warily.

“H-Holy shit. This is gonna be a max shitfest. I have no idea how to be a boyfriend, or be gay,” Monta wheezed in a rush of exhilarated panic. “I’m a total mess.”

Taka sighed roughly. “I’m regretting this.”

“Already!?” Taka shook his head, mouth twitching up on one side, gloriously pretty hair sliding over his shoulder. It was hard to tear his eyes away now that it was okay to look and _want_. “You’re not so great at messy, bro,” Monta pointed out, mouth dry, feet shuffling closer. An apple pulled by gravity to _fall_.

That all too familiar sigh and eye roll. “Rule number one, don’t call your prospective boyfriend bro.”

“Holy shit. I have a _boyfriend_.” And then he laughed out loud, one hand covering his red, incredulous face. Taka hesitated and gently placed his hand on Monta’s shoulder, thumb brushing over the curve of it. It sent shivers down Monta’s spine, shock and that blinding _want_ surging at the touch.

“One date, Raimon. We’ll discuss labels after that.”

“Right, date. I’ll come up with something _great_ ,” Monta vowed, hands in fists in front of him. Wariness returned to Taka’s eyes.

“Maybe I should-”

Monta held up a hand in Taka’s face and _tch_ ed loudly. “No way, man. I got this. I’ll text info once I got a solid idea. It’ll be the best date you ever had.”

“Really, just a coffee somewhere-”

“I don’t even like coffee.”

A pained resignation crossed Taka’s face at the reminder. He was always trying to get Monta to keep drinking it and appreciate it. Yeah, right, like that’d ever happen. He held up his fist for Taka to bump. With a bemused look, Taka bumped it.

“Boom! It’s on me! See ya soon, future boyfriend!”

“Raimon, please, don’t-” But Monta was already running out of sight, mind bent on just what he needed to do to blow Taka’s mind and convince him that they were gonna be perfect together.

Learning the DevilBackfire was easier than this was gonna be…

* * *

 

“You sure he’s gonna like this?” Riku asked from his bunk, novel open on his lap.

Monta scoffed loudly. “Of course he’s gonna like it. It’s a great idea,” he retorted very firmly, even though his voice was muffled from where his head was lodged in the depths of his closet. He was still shirtless and trying to fix that; and Riku had to go and try and get him _nervous_. Max uncool.

“I guess I wouldn’t hate it,” Riku allowed with a tilt of his head. He turned the page and didn’t even bother offering to help when Monta started cursing fluently in irritation.

Monta wasn’t a fashionable guy. He liked comfy clothes that could match with anything and tended to wear the same 5 or 6 outfits in various mixes every week. A lot of his shirts had funny slogans or anime and videogame characters. Thinking that wearing his favorite Gundam shirt- with the hole along the seam of the collar and the red long faded to pink- wouldn’t be appreciated on a first date with a _very_ fashion-observant Taka Honjou, he was currently trying to find his newest (re: cleanest) shirt. With a triumphant shout, he snagged the dark blue sleeve and yanked free the baseball tee from the large pile on the bottom of his closet. The torso part was an off-white to the three-quarters-sleeves’ and collar’s navy blue. Printed across the chest was a shaggy, yellow-furred teddy bear with a weird, lion-like ruff around its neck marching over a large mushroom. A cool-sounding English phrase was typed in big, bold letters along the top and bottom of the graphic. Monta pulled it on over his head with a grunt.

“All right, I’m not forgetting my pants again, am I?” Monta joked. 

Riku glanced up with a sardonic lift of an eyebrow and a lazy half-smirk. Monta held up his arms half-heartedly, not really expecting much in the way of help from Riku (he really only went out of his way for Sena if it wasn’t amefuto related). So, when Riku’s went wide and his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, Monta as just as startled as Riku looked.

“What? It’s new! No way it’s got a stain!?” he cried incredulously, clutching it to tug this way and that to look it over more carefully.

“No, it’s not a stain- wait, that’s _new_? Do you actually hang your clothes, fold them? Use an iron, _ever_?” Monta blinked at him cluelessly. Riku rolled his eyes and took a deep, bracing breath. “That’s not important right now. That… _mess_ on the front is,” he drawled, making a sweeping gesture at Monta’s torso.

Again, Monta blinked cluelessly and held his shirt out away from his chest to re-read (well, kinda read) the front. English was definitely his worst subject (who’s he kidding, they’re all his worst subjects), but he couldn’t see anything wrong with the slogan. 

“What? It’s cool! And it’s… inspirational!” At least, that translate app gave him that impression when he’d bought it.

Riku burst into gut-punching laughter. His book actually fell from his hands and tears gathered in his eyes. “It’s _what_?” Riku wheezed desperately.

Monta crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Shut up, man. Who cares _what_ it says. It looks cool and I like it! I’m going before you act like an asshole anymore.”

Riku was too busy laughing again to retort. Monta snatched his phone and wallet, stuffed them in his back pocket, then grabbed a discarded pair of jeans. He threw them as hard as possible towards Riku’s stupid, gasping, red face. … He ended up knocking the lamp off the nightstand rather violently, but Riku was yelling angrily at him instead of laughing, so, eh, it all worked out. He really did wish Sena wasn’t on a shift at work right now, though. He could’ve used a bit more pep talk like what he got the night before.

 _Just be yourself and have a good time. It’ll work out, Monta. Text me if you need_ anything _._

Less than an hour later, Monta was hopping off the subway. In his pocket, his phone buzzed a few times in quick succession. He took a second to wipe his sweaty palms on his jean-clad thighs, the fabric rasping loud and rough on his skin, before he attempted to wrest his phone free of his pocket. His pants weren’t even tight. Suzuna had advised him _years_ ago not to go with the skinny jean trend, - despite the “surprisingly nice rear view”- because the style emphasized his bowlegged stride. Since skinny jeans were hella uncomfortable with boxers, anyway, he’d never worn anything that could considered ‘tight’.

And yet, now, it felt like he was wearing a pair of pants dug out from his high school junk.

Barely keeping his slippery as a fish mobile in his hands, he got it around to unlock the screen and find the messages waiting. A couple from Riku, telling him to buy a new lightbulb and a coffin on the way home, one from Taka stating he was on his way (Monta felt his face get red and hot for _no reason, holy shit, calm down?!_ ), and the last few from Sena.

**The BFF << whatever happens today u gave it a try and ur really great**

**The BFF << ur gonna hav a blast and we’ll celebrate w beer and pizza for a midnite snack (dont tell seijuuro!)**

**The BFF << ganbatte!**

Monta grinned and rubbed his nose bashfully at the encouraging texts. Even while running around the cafe during the afternoon rush, Sena made time to send him something cool. Monta typed a quick reply to each ( **ASSHOLE >> fucc u bro get ur own**; **Taka >> almost there!!**; **The BFF >> thnx man ur buying the beer**), then shoved the phone away to pick up the pace towards his date. No way was he gonna let Taka get there first.

He did, in fact, manage to get there before Taka. Knowing it would probably _never_ happen again, Monta congratulated himself while getting in the entry ticket line. Right as he got to the front and handed over the cash, he heard Taka call out his name- just barely louder than normal talking pitch. No attention attracting shouting for Class Act Honjou Taka ™.

Grinning, Monta half-turned to wave in Taka’s direction. The early afternoon sun glinted off his pale hair, and he was freakishly tall, so it was easy enough to pick him out of the crowd. The grey slacks and light turquoise polo that brought out the pretty silver of his fluffy hair made him look like he belonged on a magazine cover, not at a half-assed putt-putt course waving back at Monta with a slight smile.

Monta propped himself on the counter, rocking up a bit on his toes and leaning forward on his elbows, just so he could whisper conspiratorially and none-too-little incredulously, “Can you believe I’m here with _that_?” to the cashier- a bored college girl around his own age.

She glanced up, popping her gum and disinterestedly looking in the direction he gestured. Her eyes widened, and the hand holding the bright orange wrist bands he’d just bought drooped. The look she turned on him was beyond incredulous, it was downright disbelieving.

 _That’s just_ rude.

“No way _you’re_ here with that guy, especially not dressed like _that_ ,” she replied with an unfairly judgmental and disparaging glance down his baseball tee and cuffed up jeans.

“Hey, c’mon. It’s a cool shirt!” Monta fumed, ears burning as he flipped her the bird. Her very unimpressed eyeroll had him huffing and stomping towards Taka.

Taka’s eyes snapped up to Monta’s face. There was that strange frown on his face Monta had seen a few times before- normally after Monta had convinced him to do something unbelievably stupid and best described as somewhere between perplexed and steamrolled. Monta was too busy being aggravated as shit about the cashier chick to care if there were something wrong with his pants, _too_.

After a subtle clearing up his throat, though his brows were still a little low, Taka greeted calmly, “Why were you yelling at-” he interrupted himself mid-sentence, his eyes riveted on Monta’s chest. Actual _pain_ flitted through his eyes and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “What the hell is on [your shirt](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/c5/49/f6/c549f672fb5afdcc386d9fe67e457943.jpg) Raimon?”

“It’s a fuckin’ teddy bear! What’s wrong with it?” Monta exclaimed, throwing his arms in the air in exasperation.

“I don’t care about the ridiculous picture. I’m talking about the _abomination_ of that nonsensical English,” Taka clarified in utter disgust.

Monta blinked and stared down at his shirt. **EVERYTIME THE LIGHT KEEPS SHINING ON ME** was written across the top, and below the marching bear, **OTHERWISE YOU CAN BEARLY SEE**. “What? I thought it was inspirational?” Monta demanded, baffled and annoyed.

“No, it means absolutely nothing. Why-” Taka pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of all the shirts- Raimon, there’s a _pun_ for fuck’s sake.”

Monta nodded with an eye roll. “Well, _yeah_ , that’s the part I liked! I mean, I had to use the app to translate ‘cuz I didn’t get it at first, but that’s the main reason I bought it, bro. Puns are the best.”

“No, Raimon, puns are the lowest form of humor.”

A shit-eating grin spread over Monta’s face. “Really? I thought fart jokes were?” he retorted cheekily. Taka actually _facepalmed_ before holding up a warning finger.

“Do _not_ start with me, Tarou Raimon,” Taka warned very seriously.

Monta burst into laughter, a hand over his stomach and his head tilted back. The irritation of before finally dissipated into the more easy humor he usually had around Taka. He stepped closer holding up a band, still chortling. Taka held up his hand to take it, but… With a grin that felt max lame and kinda goofy, and a heartbeat that was probably way too fast for something so innocent, Monta easily wrapped the neon, plastic-y paper band around Taka’s proffered wrist himself. His thumbs brushed casually over sun-warmed skin and his pulse ratcheted up to over 9000. He’d probably touched Taka a million times, in a lot more compromising situations (amefuto games and locker rooms and public bathhouses and beach trips all came startling to mind and _wow_ so many opportunities wasted on past him, _for reals_ ), but he’d never got to enjoy it (obviously). Now he felt the smoothness of Taka’s fair skin, and the softness of Taka’s inner wrist as he stroked the tape into place; it was knocking him off his axis in the best kind of way. It was bitch to let go, too. He’d never noticed before how his hands were bigger than Taka’s- even though Taka was so much taller and his presence so much _larger_. It was a startling contrast and Monta was already picturing in his mind just what his hands would look like on all those clothes-hidden places he knew too well. ~~Not well enough.~~

“How much do I owe you?” Taka asked, his voice low. It broke the spell nonetheless and Monta dropped his hands away as if they burnt.

“Huh, wha- No, man, I got this,” Monta croaked out, clearing his throat and shaking his head as he stepped back. He fumbled with his own band and hoped the heat crawling up the back of his neck wasn’t noticeable.

With that done, Monta led the way. Just past the entrance booth were rows of towering cages shining in the early afternoon sun. An attendant sitting in a small three-walled equipment shed handed over a couple of faded-out orange helmets (that looked like orange-tinted brown they were so old and faded) and then a basket full of baseballs each. There was a row of about hip-high containers full of bats. Bats were quickly chosen (not like these were _good_ quality bats to choose from after all) and both young men snagged the first two cages side-by-side to shut themselves in. Monta was already grinning expectantly over at Taka through the mesh fencing when Taka set down his armload and looked over.

“So? It’s great, right? I figured it’s been awhile since either of us enjoyed a good battin’ sesh,” Monta said, slapping his helmet on and bouncing on his heels.

“I believe you have the advantage on me. It’s been since middle school on my part,” Taka conceded, a private, small smile on his face.

“What?! Middle school?! But your- you still play catch with your dad sometimes?” Monta pointed out, gaping and bewildered.

Taka shrugged a shoulder and reached in his pocket for a hairtie. “I’m still a receiver in amefuto. I haven’t batted since I dropped out of my middle school’s league in my second year.” He gathered his long mane of hair into a low, loose tail and began the complicated (to Monta) process of tying it.

There would’ve been some kind of reply… to something. Really. But. Monta was very glad- somewhere in the back of his head- that he hadn’t loaded the machine yet. Because Taka’s bare neck, tilted to the side and framed by his carefully folded collar, had Monta’s throat drying inexplicably and his focus completely shot to hell. All he could think, like a claxon bell going off in his brain, was _this is a date, thisisadate, a date **a date**_. The idea that he could, possibly, maybe, in the future, put his mouth _right there_ at some point was playing out in 3D motion picture behind his retinas. He could, in that same hazy maybe-land, bury his hands in all that silky, floofy mass and find out just what it took to feel cool-blooded Taka’s pulse to race too fast, too hard, too hot.

“C-Cool story, bro,” Monta forced out at last. Taka raised an eyebrow at him as he set his helmet over his head.

“Are you feeling well?”

“Whut? Yeah, def. So, batting. Let’s go! I’ll beat your ass at this like I do at catching,” Monta taunted, snagging his bat and swinging it up onto his shoulder.

“We’ll see,” Taka said noncommittally with a bland smirk tipping up a side of his mouth.

It took a few swings for Monta to get the rhythm of it back. He hadn’t been as awful at this as he had been (is) at throwing when he’d played as a kid and he was able to get back into it fairly easily. He was no Babe Ruth, but he managed to nick the ball on every swing, and got solid hits one outta three times. Muscles burning pleasantly and sweat trickling down his temples, Monta set aside his bat and looked Taka’s way. He tipped up his helmet by the brim with his thumb and stared wide-eyed. He wasn’t _surprised_ -surprised. He _so_ should’ve seen it coming.

But he totally didn’t see it coming.

The kneejerk, gutpunch reaction to watching the fluid, minimalist, perfection of Taka’s form and swing. The careless way he twisted that somehow looked slow and effortless, just for aluminum to hit the incoming ball with a resounding _thwunk_ that rang in the air. The ball hit the farthest corner with a wild jangle of fencing; an obvious and sure home-run by the height of it. The next ball hit what looked like the exact same spot just seconds later, and another. Again, and again, a homerun or triple done with Taka’s face blank and unaffected. He wasn’t even concentrating.

There was nothing about Taka right now that burned Monta’s blood or sent his pulse careening. There was no drive, none of the fire that Monta saw on the field during a game. This was the Taka of their first meeting. Bored. Unchallenged. Uncaring. He looked so damn good in that helmet and with his hair tied back, and, for a baseball nut like Monta still was, watching that perfect form in motion was like some art douche gushing over a Duh Bichi or whatever that old French dude’s name was. He could easily picture Taka in a baseball uniform and, yeah, the image was _really_ hot.

But it was hot in the same way the obviously posed models in nudie mags were.

The real Taka, the one _Monta_ had seen come alive over and over again on the gridiron, _that_ Taka was so much better than this one. Disappointed but still amazed, Monta made his way over to the fence. Crossing his arms against the fence, the wide receiver leaned forward and groaned theatrically.

“You’re killin’ me, man. You knew all along you were a freak with a bat, didn’t you? If you’re just as good at pitching, I’m gonna get a complex,” Monta complained with a goodnatured laugh.

Taka stepped away from the machine and dropped his bat to the ground. When he turned to Monta, he was smirking faintly. “You’re already a contradicting mess of different complexes. You’ll survive.”

“Oi! _Max_ uncool,” Monta protested, the fence shaking under his weight as he guffawed outright. His eyes opened to see Taka right on the other side the fence. He set his hands on the fence and huffed his own amusement.

“You forget I was an outfielder, Raimon. I actually can’t pitch as well as I bat or catch. I didn’t train for it,” Taka told him. Monta grunted, unimpressed.

“I bet you woulda been ace at that, too, though. If you’d wanted. You’re great at everything you do, you freak genius,” he replied with a disparaging scowl directed towards himself. Taka’s features softened momentarily before he pulled on a smug, condescending expression that always managed to rile Monta up.

“You’re not that bad. You’re just too tense and overthinking it. I didn’t think that was possible for you, but you always managed to surprise me,” Taka taunted as Monta sputtered indignantly.

Monta snagged Taka’s hand through the fence and ignored the heat blooming over his face as his fingers curled over Taka’s. The other man’s startled light-eyed gaze flickered to their entwined hands, separated only by the fence links pressing into their palms. “Not thinking is better than _overthinking,_ anyway. Don’t be a dick, Tak.”

The moment spun out a little too long and sweat crawled down Monta’s neck. As his bravado failed, and the utter embarrassment of holding someone’s _hand_ like a lame-o in a drama started to become too much to take, Monta tried to pull away. Taka’s hand squeezed, fleeting and quick, but definitely with a pressure that had Monta’s pupils dilating and his mouth dropping open.

“Perhaps,” Taka allowed, voice soft and pensive, as his hand fell away.

“Huh? What?” Monta blurted in confusion. He’d already completely lost track of the conversation while that moment of affection replayed over and over in his head. He hadn’t- he hadn’t imagined it, had he?

Taka scoffed under his breath and shook his head. “How about I come over and help you out? It’s not often I get a chance.”

“What, to help me?” Monta asked, bewildered and backpedalling towards his batting cage’s door. To the side, Taka was already exiting his cage, leaving his basket and bat behind, but keeping his helmet.

“Yes, to help you. You’ve helped me more than I’ve ever helped you in the past. In some ways, in the matter of amefuto, you’ve mentored me more than the other way around. I’ll finally live up to being your senior,” Taka joked mildly. Monta actually barked out a laugh at that and let Taka in.

“Dude, I never woulda made it through last term’s finals without you! … or Riku. That shithead actually helped, too. But mostly you!” Monta pointed out grinning. They gathered up the larger than average, but not quite soft, baseballs and reloaded Monta’s pitching machine.

“I’d prefer helping in sports. You’re a terrible academic,” Taka retorted at last, handing over Monta’s bat. Monta snickered and scratched his cheek.

“You could say that again. I liked that one book you gave me. It was interesting! Studying is _always_ boring, though.”

Taka shook his head slightly and then stepped back. “All right. Go ahead. Let me get a better look at you.”

“All ya hadta do was ask,” Monta shot back automatically with a leer. He froze and spluttered. “Uh, I mean-”

“Seeing as this is a date, that wasn’t actually inappropriate, and yet, _now_ you get embarrassed for using an innuendo,” Taka sighed, eyes rolling upwards.

“Shuddup,” Monta mumbled, turning back to the machine. For about three pitches, Monta batted and ignored Taka’s presence just out the corner of his eye. Which proved fatal when hands fell on his shoulders and had him shrieking and almost braining Taka with his helmet. “Holy cow, man!”

“Would you just calm _down_? You knew I was here!” Taka replied, roughly shoving Monta back around. A ball pitched by and Monta flinched back into Taka’s chest.

 _Shit_ , _he’s tall_. The image of trying to kiss someone taller than himself flashed in his head and he had to fight down the urge to blush like a friggin' dweeb again.

“Your stance is good, but too tense. You keep twitching and shifting. I’m guessing you keep thinking of your old coach’s advice about how to stand?” Taka observed, hands smoothing down Monta’s arms clinically and pulling up one elbow even higher. Which actually felt more right- Monta knew something had felt off…

“Yeah, that’s- uh, exactly it,” Monta agreed, clearing his choked up throat mid-word. _Keep it together, dude. You and Sena have been more space invade-y than this during training! This is not that exciting, dick, calm down._ A strange, eeping noise escaped him against his will when Taka’s knee pressed against his inner thigh to spread his stance wider. They weren’t huge adjustments, but it felt better, more natural, while at the same time pushing his blood pressure up to ridiculously dangerous levels. If his stance hadn’t been so solid, he would’ve tipped over when Taka stepped away.

Had Taka’s hands… lingered on Monta’s arms? Another ball whizzed by and Monta barely flinched.

“The next one’s yours. Think about where you want the ball to fly, and aim there with your swing,” Taka advised, arms crossed over his chest and voice sounding… weird. Taka didn’t have a deep voice, Monta’s tended to crack deeper than Taka’s. But his voice now sounded rougher and low. When the ball hurtled out of the machine, Monta swung automatically, his mouth dry and heart hammering against his ribs. It took the jangle of the fencing to snap him out of it.

“ _Whoa_ ,” Monta gasped, staring at where the ball had struck.

“Congratulations, Raimon. You made your first triple. Maybe a homerun if the outfielders are incompetent,” Taka said with something like pride in his tone.

“Holy shit, _dude_. I’ve never hit that well. It’s a hella shame you dropped out of baseball. You would’ve been amazing,” Monta breathed out, dropping his bat to the ground.

“You still have a few pitches left. Let’s see if it’s a fluke.”

“Oh, fuck you, Taka!” Monta shouted, making Taka laugh out loud.

The rest of the pitches were finished with a remarkably high average for Monta. He grinned, breathless, pits and back sweaty and face flushed, as he set his bat against his foot. He hadn’t gotten a homerun, but he’d hit towards the same corner almost every single time with only a few fouls. His muscles felt pulled too tight in a few places, but it also felt kinda great.

“Jeez, I’ve really missed this,” Monta chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “I forgot how much I loved it, yanno? I was so focused on all the ways I failed in baseball, that all the fun stuff just… got buried over.”

“I’m glad you could remember a little today,” Taka said with a hand on Monta’s shoulder.

“Hey! Dude! The monkey-looking dude!” hollered an unfamiliar, young voice.

“I am NOT a monkey!” Monta snapped, fuming and steaming, as he turning. A few kids in baseball tees, actual baseball tees with team logos, and hats turned backwards under their helmets, stood outside Monta’s cage with excited grins on their faces.

“Can you teach us how to do that?” the first voice asked, belonging to a short, stocky kid.

One of the taller ones with three teeth missing piped up, “Yeah, we totally suck!”

“Shut up! We don’t suck!” the others all yelled at their hapless friend, their faces red.

“I dunno, I think maybe-” Monta glanced up towards Taka. Taka rolled his eyes and stepped back.

“Go have fun.”

“Yeah, yeah! Let’s go!”

Monta laughed clapped Taka’s back. “I’ll be just a minute. These twerps are probably lost causes anyway.”

“HEY!”

* * *

 

Taka sat at a picnic table, one leg crossed over the other, and his thumbs tapping methodically over the screen. Raimon hadn’t been gone long- and he could still hear the raucous bellowing coming from further down the cage lane. His and Raimon’s batting things were sitting by his feet so their cages could be filled with other occupants. Even though he was sitting alone and his date was off playing with _children_ , the alone part wasn’t the troubling issue. The troubling issue was his reaction to this entire outing. He’d been worried for weeks, ever since Raimon had revealed his deeper feelings. Even though he told Raimon he wasn’t sure he could have those kinds of feelings for him, he’d agreed to the date in the first place because Raimon had been right. He’d deserved a chance, and Taka cared enough to grant that chance.

But, as he had confided in Karin just the next day, he’d known he was bi since he as a teenager. He’d dated both men and women- none seriously, none past the third date, and mostly for the sexual experience. His feelings for Raimon had _always_ been platonic. He had noticed that Raimon had grown into himself, that he was attractive in his easily overlooked way (it didn’t help they were surrounded by beautiful people and Raimon was ‘average’). Taka had noticed how important his relationship to Raimon had always been to him. How Raimon’s successes and triumphs and pains had always been personal to _him_. How his father’s camaraderie and genuine respect for Raimon had always filled Taka with relief and gratitude- not that he’d ever admit it to _them_. The idea of losing Raimon, of losing his exuberance and humor and frank sincerity, had been the driving reason he’d agreed to the date; an effort to stave off that possibility. A simple date that endedin awkward disaster they could recover from had been his expectation.

He hadn’t expected that going on what could have been a normal outing and stapling the word ‘date’ on it would be having this effect on him.

The first instance, when he’d come to the park and seen Raimon leaning over the counter, in a shirt that actually fit him enough to showcase his arms and narrow waist and a pair of pants that had been worn so often they fit to him perfectly- that shouldn’t have been a shock to the system. Surely, Raimon looked exactly the same. And he wasn’t leaning that far over, so if his ass looked especially good in that moment, it was definitely just a combination of lighting and nice pants. Obviously. The _ridiculous_ shirt should have been better than a bucket of ice water; Taka hated _nothing_ more than he hated bad English on shirts. Just buy Japanese slogans! Why ruin perfectly good clothing with nonsense that made you look like an uneducated moron? Just seconds later, though, Raimon had managed to break past the disgust and send his heartbeat racing with just a simple touch of his hands to Taka’s wrist. That was- that was _absurd_. _He_ wasn’t the virgin here. It took more than a Victorian-era-scandalous amount of contact to effect him! Taka had also never been in a relationship with _hand holding_ because, for fuck’s sake, he wasn’t a primary student. Handholding was for children.

But that simple, innocuous contact through the fence had Taka itching for more. Prompting him into an unnecessary offer and a reason for as much physical contact he could get away with in public.

His phone dinged again.

**Karin << That just means it’s going well! You’re seeing him the same way he sees you, right? **

Taka sighed and glanced upwards. **Me >> I’m not certain. He’s not acting any different other than that bit of hand touching. We’re not children, Karin. The one time he made a sexual overture, it was a joke like he’d done a thousand times, and then immediately regressed into embarrassment. I don’t think he honestly knows what he wants.**

**Me >> What if I start seeing him this way and he realizes he really doesn’t want this?**

**Me >> Could I, hypothetically, _unsee_ him?**

Taka looked up, eyes going to where Raimon was currently being tackled by almost a half-dozen boys in baseball helmets. Even covered in gross, smelly boys whose bony knees and elbows were most likely leaving behind bruises, Raimon only laughed and joked. Never losing his patience or becoming violent, even if he huffed and bellowed at their teasing. He looked like he was having the time of his life.

A fond smile pulled up the corners of his mouth as affection swelled in his chest.

**Karin << Oh, Taka-san. You idiot.**

He blinked down at the screen incredulously. Karin almost _never_ spoke to _anyone_ like that.

**Karin << You aren’t his superior in any way! Don’t act like you’re this wise old man looking out for poor, stupid Tarou-san’s interests FOR him. He’s an adult, just like you! **

Taka frowned, thumbs smashing against the screen. **Me >> Raimon is not stupid, Karin-chan. That doesn’t mean he’s not confused. His friendship means too much to me to lose it.**

**Karin << From what I understood, he feels the same! He’s not doing this on a whim, Taka-san. Give his feelings the benefit of the doubt. Even if he IS less experienced than you, it doesn’t mean he can’t tell reality from fantasy. **

**Karin << Besides, he deserves the attention. Suzupin tells me he doesn’t think he’s very attractive. Whether or not this works out, letting him know he’s appreciated in that way is an ego boost. ;p**

**Me >> What have I said about the faces.**

**Karin << Go look at your date’s butt and stop being a wet blanket.**

**Me >> Did Taki-san steal your phone?**

**Karin << … yes. NOW GO CHECK OUT MONTA’S BUTT AND GET HIM LAID. DO YOU KNOW HOWWWQQQQ…….**

**Karin << I got it back. Please, just go have a good time and stop overthinking everything. **

“Hey, Taka!” He glanced up to see Raimon racing towards him, hollering and waving needlessly. “Sorry, I got caught up, bro!”

Taka exited the text conversation and stuffed his phone in his pocket to get to his feet. Raimon skidded to a stop just in front of him, then doubled over to pant rapidly. He was sweaty, mussy, and the hem on his shirt had, for some reason, started unravelling. There looked to be a bruise forming on his arm, bared by his shirtsleeves having been pushed up over his elbows. Trying to hide the concern, Taka reached down to tug at the wayward thread hanging from the ruined hem. Raimon groaned and slapped a hand over his face.

“Don’t worry, it’s an improvement,” Taka assured him quickly, mouth twitching up. “Next time, go for the rest of it, too. And don't call me bro.”

Raimon choked on a laugh, but his heavy brows were still drawn tight and low over his nose. “I actually like this shirt, asshole. But… I shouldna bailed you… and I got totally wrecked, jeez. I guess I ruined date day pretty fast, huh?” Raimon noted, tone a forced light and mocking, but the anxiety written too obviously over his face even as he tried to awkwardly laugh it off.

His hand was settled on the back of Raimon’s neck, thumb lying over the swiftly beating pulse, before he’d consciously thought it. Taka could feel the jump in Raimon’s heart rate as he gawked up at Taka. “No, it’s not ruined.”

The moment dragged too long to be natural, their eyes not looking away from the other’s. Raimon swallowed hard, the action rolling under Taka’s hand. Then, he broke the tension by glancing away, mouth pouting slightly before he covered it with his hand.

“Right, okay, _good_ ,” Raimon mumbled. Worry seeped out of him like water through a sieve and he was grinning again, bright and wide. “Good, ‘cuz we haven’t even played putt-putt or eaten yet!”

Amused, Taka let himself be dragged back towards the main building. Inside was the typical arcade, with plenty of small karaoke booth games, rows of fighting games, and dozens upon dozens of claw-machine lining the walls. Not to mention a whole room devoted to photobooths. True relief flooded Taka when Raimon completely ignored the photobooth rooms and karaoke games, instead dragging him down the lines of claw machine games, excitingly gushing over the different prizes (mostly plushies) inside. Inevitably, Raimon insisted on trying to get one, snagging a ridiculous poop emoji plushie that had made Raimon laugh till he cried and push it into Taka’s protesting arms.

He would’ve preferred wearing the damn ‘Engrish’ shirt over carting around the atrocity Raimon insisted he’d won for him.

Raimon had also insisted Taka _not_ repay the favor, or lend him any money for the multiple tries it had taken to win. He also paid for their putt-putt course. He even held open doors for Taka to walk through without even noticing it. Suspicions were forming in Taka’s head and they weren’t pleasant ones. By the time they turned in their golf cues and headed out for an actual dinner (not just fried meat or dough from the concession stand that, of course, Raimon had bought for them and then spilled half onto himself), Taka was starting to feel _aggravated_. They sat down at a restaurant Mamori had recommended (Raimon had admitted), and Raimon pulled out his wallet again.

“You do not have to pay for this as well,” Taka muttered the moment the waiter left their table with their menus and orders. Raimon blinked over at him.

“Yeah, I do?” Raimon replied, baffled. “It’s a _date-_ ”

“If you say something about being ‘the man’, I’ll lose a great deal of respect for you,” Taka cut in sharply. Raimon stared in shock and hurt until actual _anger_ crossed his features.

“What the hell? _No_ , I invited _you_. It makes sense I’d pay, Taka,” Raimon retorted, just as bitingly.

“It’s not just about the paying. The entire time you’ve been treating me like the ‘girlfriend’,” Raimon’s face flooded beet-red in color as he scowled, but Taka continued on regardly. “I’m not the stand-in for a woman and I don’t appreciate being treated like it. The paying, the doors, the… _toy_ ,” he gestured towards the absurd, smiling, emoji-plushie with a grimace.

“Right, thanks, Tak. Throw it in my face how _max_ unsophiscated I am,” Raimon snapped, eyes rolling hard enough it looked painful. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, I don’t know know what the _fuck_ I’m doing, so I’m doing what I’m used to. I _like_ claw machines, it wasn’t about trying to make you a _girl_. And the doors thing is just something I do! I didn’t realize I needed to be an asshole to have a date with a man! How ‘bout how you’re actin’, huh? I get it, we’re buds and have been since high school, but this is supposed to be a date. I’m tryin’ here, okay?”

Taka reeled back. Raimon steamrolled on, hands cutting wildly through the air and voice steadily growing louder.

“If this is some sort of pity date, or, like, ‘get the annoying monkey off my back by playing along for a day’ kinda crap, I’d lose a ‘great deal of respect for _you_ ’,” he sneered, actually airquoting with his fingers. “If you aren’t friggin’ attracted to me, and honestly don’t want to date me, just fuckin’ _say it_. Instead of being a douche and nitpicking everything I do as _wrong_.”

“Raimon, wait-” Taka tried desperately to interject before he completely lost control of the conversation. But Raimon snorted, loud and noisy.

“Ha, what, am I being too _loud_ now? I’m a mess, I get it. This was probably the worst freakin’ date you’ve ever had. Thanks for _playing along_ , though. I’ll just see myself out. You can pay for the check since it matters so much to you, _man_.” Raimon almost shouted, getting to his feet so quickly the table rattled and the condiments almost tipped over. Cursing and limping out from the booth, Raimon stormed out the restaurant door and left Taka sitting dumbfounded. The waiter returned with a confused frown.

“Is it… to go?”

“No, just- never mind. Cancel it,” Taka said with a wave of his hand. “Excuse us.” He was already sliding out of the booth when the waiter stammered out a reply.

 

* * *

 

Sidewalk pounded under his shoes. His thighs still stung from the stupid table and his whole body was still shaking with fury over that even stupider fight. He’d been trying so _hard_ all day. Sure, he’d let those kids distract him, but he’d been making up for it, hadn’t he? They’d had fun? Taka had laughed, damn it. Okay, so he’d smeared takoyaki sauce all over his face and dropped almost half of them on his shirt, but Taka _had_ laughed. Monta shoved his tightly clenched fists in his pockets and stomped harder, grumbling at each jarring thud. To be totally truthful, though, it wasn’t just fury that had him marching blindly down the sidewalk. Shoulders knocked hard into him, a few people muttered or outright snapped at his inattention, but he couldn’t be bothered to even lift his eyes. He clutched at the anger with both hands, fed it with his annoyance and desperately ignored the disappointment that weighed down his stomach like he’d swallowed stones.

If he’d learned anything today, it was that it wasn’t just a fluke. It wasn’t simple friendship getting mixed up with frustrated libido. This was an honest to God crush. He was crazy about Taka. Crazy about his smiles and his laughter. Crazy about his uppity judgey faces and sneering over puns and bad English; how had he missed that all these years? Which led him to going over all the new things he’d learned that day. The way Taka swung a bat, the pressure of his fingers around Monta’s through the fence, his hands smoothing down his arms, and his breath curling over Monta’s ears, the proud look he got when Monta succeeded- though, to be fair, he’d seen that a few times before. He just really _really_ liked it, okay? Taka’s utter indifference to putt-putt until Monta started winning, and the hilarious competitive streak that had Taka getting _way_ too serious, judging wind and calculating geometry or physics or something to get a hole-in-one for the rest of the course. The horror on his face at the plushie Monta had won, but he’d kept it, held it obviously under his arm the entire time for _Monta's sake_.

Fuck, Monta was in deep.

And Taka wasn’t even in the _wading pool_.

Monta gritted his teeth and rubbed his hand over his face. He’d needed this wake up call. This is what he’d _asked_ for. A chance to know, and, if needed, _move on_. He _could_. He could get over it, he could look at Taka and see FRIEND again. Sooner or later.

Right now, though, if he saw Taka, Monta would probably punch his stupid beautiful face.

“Raimon, slow down!”

"Oh, _come on!_ Really?” Monta shouted at the air. He scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest, but stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk. A hand clasped his shoulder from behind, tugging him around to meet Taka’s gaze. Without thinking, Monta smacked the hand away. The startled hurt in Taka’s already concerned expression should’ve had Monta feeling _vindicated,_ not like shit. … speaking of shit…

Monta squinted down at the smiling poop plushie in Taka’s hand. “You don’t need to fake it, man. I get it. Just throw it away!”

“It’s ridiculous, but I’m not going to throw it away. I also don’t know what you think you ‘get’, Raimon-” Taka began roughly.

“It was just a joke! I just like playing the stupid machine. Why _not_?!” Monta demanded, railroading over whatever placating _crap_ Taka was gonna try and spew to make him 'feel better'.

“Because I’m taking it seriously!” Taka snapped. He had to visibly calm himself with a glance at the sidewalk traffic passing on both sides of them, and staring as they did. “Could we please take this somewhere more private?”

“Ha, no. All these people are the only thing keeping me from _max_ punching you right now, so- hey, wait, what!” Monta squawked as Taka ‘tch’ed and snagged Monta’s wrist.

“Stop with the dramatics, Raimon,” he replied, yanking him along.

“Oi! I said no!” Monta exclaimed furiously. He stumbled into a narrow alley right behind Taka, stopping next to a pile of overstuffed garbage bags and boxes.

Taka released him, his one newly empty hand rising in the air defensively. “At least let me apologize without a hundred strangers gawking.”

That pulled Monta up short, his gaping mouth clacking shut. “What?”

“I’m sorry. You were right to be mad about what I said in the restaurant,” Taka said clearly.

“Well, yeah- but… look,” Monta dragged a hand through his hair with a loud, gusty exhale, “what do you _want_? I have no idea and you’re mixing up your signals pretty bad, bro. I know, Tak, I _know_ exactly what I want. And a pity date is _not_ it.”

“This wasn’t-” Taka tried to protest, eyes fierce.

“Yeah, right, you sure about that?” Monta burst in impatiently. “All day, _all day_ , I just wanted to look at you. I kept wanting to touch you and found any excuse I could. I _want_ you like frickin’ crazy, and you touched me, like, two times. I can’t… I can’t _want_ you this bad and know you just _don’t_. Damn it, if you don’t even think I’m attractive, if you never thought I had a real chance, you shoulda just _told me_. It’s… you’re just jerking me around!” Monta shouted, hands in fists at his sides and his face twisted up in anger and hurt. His loud, hoarse breaths echoed between them as the backlash of his outburst settled.

“Raimon, that is _not_ the problem,” Taka said quietly. His hand moved towards Monta, then dropped back to his side. “Of course I think you’re attractive. Ridiculous, impetuous, and impulsive, yes, but also attractive. However, you’re my _friend_.” The plushie rolled between Taka’s hands and he explained in his calm, measured way, even as he hesitated and paused between each sentence. “Those thoughts and feelings… that _way_ of thinking about you, I learned years ago to put those away, in a box. I’ve never wanted to make my relationship with you complicated and that’s what sex does. Our friendship meant- _means_ too much to me to ruin it over something trivial.”

Monta ducked his head, torn down the middle from a shocked kind of flattery and just plain exasperation, leaving him tongue-tied and rather bashful. Exasperation asserted itself in the end and Monta looked Taka in eye. “So _open_ the stupid box. You said this was a chance. But it’s not a real chance if you’re keeping all that locked down. You’re…” Monta broke off, scrunching his nose and frowning thunderously in thought. The thunder cleared as his mouth twitched and his index finger jabbed in Taka’s direction. “You’re _totally_ friend-zoning me.”

Taka grimaced _beautifully_ , his expression incredulous and disdainful. There was no holding back the laughter that cackled out of Monta.

“Please, never use that phrase again. There’s _no_ such thing.”

Monta scooted just a little closer, feet not quite lifting into actual steps in a subtle attempt at closing the distance. “I dunno, bro, that sounded like textbook definition. Okay, friend _box_. Is that better?” Monta mocked with a crooked smirk.

“No, it is not. Don’t call me bro,” Taka ordered waspishly. He apparently didn’t notice the slowly closing in Monta, too busy scowling pensively. “I just don’t want to-” he broke off again, shifting guiltily under Monta’s gaze.

“What? You gotta give me something here. What _don’t_ you want?” Monta prompted.

“I don’t want to invest in this if it’s not serious. I can’t be an experiment, not with you.” Taka’s bangs covered his eyes, only his tightly-drawn mouth revealed.

Monta’s jaw dropped, gobsmacked. “The- The _fuck_ , dude?” he yelled, throwing out his hands wildly. “Have you even been listening? Yeah, I’m confused and turned around, but mostly _because_ I feel the same friggin’ way! I wouldn’t be risking screwing up our friendship for- for what? An experimental buttfuck? C’mon, are you _serious_?”

Taka groaned and lifted his eyes skyward. But he lowered his gaze back to Monta’s enraged one. “I know that. If I’m being honest, I probably _knew_ that this whole time. But I can’t just change how I see you, and I don’t do spontaneous, Raimon. I can’t just blink and open my eyes to see you differently. I can’t do that and not have it feel strange, or _wrong_ , when I’ve spent years keeping the lid on that box!”

“Dude, do you think this has been any easier for me!?” Monta countered with a thumb jabbing into his chest. “At least you’re _bi_. I’ve had some sort of _identity_ crisis bullshit to deal with. Try asking for help, you moron!”

Taka blinked and then pressed his knuckles to his mouth.

“No, no, don’t you laugh! This is serious. _I’m_ serious!” Monta shouted fervently.

“I’m- I’m not. I’m not laughing,” Taka denied pointlessly as his shoulders began to shake.

Monta grumbled wordlessly and snagged two handfuls of Taka’s polo. With a jerk, Taka was pulled down to Monta’s height. He grunted and teetered forward, barely keeping his balance. The stuffed toy fell to the dirty sidewalk when Taka’s hands gripped Monta’s arms to hold himself up. Mentally praying Taka wouldn’t bust his face for this, Monta pressed his mouth to Taka’s. Too desperate, too hard, but it had Monta shaking down to his toes with relief, with _at last at last_ screaming in his head. Taka’s lips were soft and slack over his, and when Monta peeked, Taka’s eyes were wide and shocked.

His grip loosened and Monta pulled back.

“Sorry, I shoulda asked, but-”

“Is this you helping?” Taka asked hoarsely, not moving away or dropping his hands.

Heart leaping and sticking his throat like a rock, Monta nodded.

“I think you should ask for my help for this,” Taka retorted with a taunting tilt of his eyebrow.

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean!?” Monta sputtered indignantly, face red and ears steaming.

He yelped when suddenly both of Taka’s arms were around his waist, their bodies fitting together with a suddenness that had Monta’s head spinning. Then, Taka’s mouth was back, slanting over his, hotter and not even close to being _slack_. A satisfied groan ripped from his chest and Monta flung his arms over Taka’s shoulders, hands buried in that fluffy, soft hair. Their lips moved fast and damp, clinging through gasps of ragged breaths. Monta could actually feel the rapid thud of Taka’s heart, their chest were pressed so close- though that was _probably_ just his own. The sound of Taka’s harsh breaths, and the sucking, smacking sounds of their lips, had Monta’s bravado rearing, too heady and lightheaded to slow down. His tongue ran lightly over Taka’s bottom lip, and the low, throaty moan that got him had Monta’s stomach flipflopping.

A hand slid down the curve of his spine and settled over his ass, squeezing tight and pulling him flush against Taka. A long line of uninterrupted heat from pelvis to sternum that had them both exhaling loud and rough into each other's mouths. Under Monta’s thumb, he could feel Taka’s pulse beating too fast, too hard. Heady became giddy, because he’d done it. He’d gotten coolheaded, coolblooded _Honjou Taka_ to grope him in an alley and French him like his tongue in Monta’s mouth was more important than air. Damp cardboard slipped and slid under his feet, but he got them back against the nearest wall, grunting when his back hit the brick too hard. But their mouths reconnected seconds later, then tongues thrust past wet, slick lips. Silky hair tickled his arms and face, and Taka’s other hand on his back hadn’t stopped smoothing up and down his back, goosebumps in its wake.

It was probably the single hottest moment of his life.

And Taka was pulling away? Monta hissed a whine through his teeth even as his chest heaved for missing breath. Their foreheads bumped and they wordlessly gulped in fresh air, long moments whittled away until they could raise their eyes to meet again.

“So, uh… box opened?” Monta asked hoarsely.

"Ajar," Taka rasped. A fleeting, startlingly chaste kiss followed the answer, interrupting any retort Monta might've had to what sounded like a joke. Monta cupped Taka’s jaw gently and held him there, the kiss lingering far longer than Taka’s intention. Monta was just getting to the point where he thought it could evolve into the fun stuff again, when his stomach betrayed him with an emphatic rumble. They blinked in surprise before Monta let out an embarrassed snicker.

“You did run out on dinner,” Taka murmured, hands now stroking up and down Monta’s back. Monta was _not_ disappointed Taka had stopped groping his butt. Yup, definitely not.

“Yeah… well, you were a dick. You can pay this time and I’ll be the woman.”

Taka sighed, pained. “I really didn’t mean that. Please, let’s stop bringing that up.”

“Wait till I till Mamo-nee and Suzuna. They’ll rip you a new one for me. It’ll be max awesome,” Monta threatened with a sly smirk.

Actual terror flashed in those light brown eyes. “If I buy dessert, too, will it change your mind?”

“You’re _bribing_ me not to tell on you!?” Monta exclaimed, laughing boisterously. Being held so close while laughing that hard was a little weird, but nice at the same time. Maybe being the shorter one wasn’t the worst thing ever…

“Let’s go before your stomach attracts attention,” Taka replied nonchalantly. Monta was still laughing as he let his arms fall away. Taka paused just as he took a step, his eyes on the ground. Monta reached out, hesitated, then wrapped Taka’s hand in his.

“Hurry up, bro. What are you lookin’ at?”

“I said, don’t call me bro. I dropped-” Taka swooped down and stood back up with the slightly dirty poop emoji plushie, “-this. I couldn’t leave it.”

“Oh my god, dude, just throw it away. You hate it, I hate it. It was a joke!” Monta objected, grabbing for it. Taka held it away and yanked Monta backed by their joined hands.

“Oh, no, this is no joke. This is a gift.”

“C’mon, seriously, it’s dirty. I _wasn’t_ serious.”

“I’m very serious. It’s my first gift from my boyfriend,” Taka deadpanned. Monta threw back his head to groan melodramatically.

They walked towards the nearest ramen shop arguing the whole way. Their hands stayed entwined the whole way, too. The bickering finally ended when Taka leaned down to whisper in Monta’s ear, “This is me giving it a real chance.” To which Monta spluttered at his back before ducking into the ramen shop with him. Somehow, Taka managed to get that stupid thing all the way back to his dorm and even washed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will finally gain the E rating! AT LAST. lol I hope you enjoy this MAMMOTH update for now. 
> 
> Also, I hope the link to the shirt works! Because it's a work of fucking art.


	5. It Was Always You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, news flash. You have a boyfriend, man. For more than a month,” Riku replied dryly.
> 
> “Yeah, actually, about that. Do you think it’s too soon for sex? Cuz I really wanna have sex,” Monta groaned, slumping over the table. Around him, every single one of his friends choked or sprayed over the table whatever was in their mouths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frank discussions about sexual identity. A whole lot of headcanons thrown around, too. If you see "queer" as a slur, you are warned that I do not consider it such. If that ain't your thing, it cool. Just, you know, bye Felicia? Enjoy the sappy, hilarious sex ahead if you stay! <3

In a nylon booth with the smell of hot grease and fried potatoes saturating the air, a small group of friends sans any and all romantic partners chatted loudly and unashamedly. Of the five, only one wasn’t Enma, and her purple and yellow track jacket stood out starkly among the faded white and blue of the restaurant. Mamori handed out each order from the tray, shaking her head over Monta and Suzuna’s portions. Both had ordered two full meals a piece. Monta was inhaling the first pack of fries before everything was passed out, his eyes on Suzuna as she gushed in a sort of terrified excitement over her news.

“I can’t believe I’ll be graduating the same time as you, Mamo-nee! This is so exciting!” Suzuna enthused happily just before stuffing her face with hamburger and moaning in appreciation. “Do you _know_ how long it’s been since I’ve had a burger here? Being a cheerleader is _not_ worth the diet.”

Riku raised an eyebrow at her and said dryly, “It’s not like you don’t eat. The exact opposite in fact.” He sipped at his soda and scrolled on his phone. By the frown on his face, he was probably reading news sites again, the loser. He grunted and choked on Pepsi when Suzuna reached around Mamori to pop him on the back of his head. Monta snickered while Sena patted Riku’s back anxiously. _T_ _otally_ saw that one coming.

“It’s still a strict diet. As the captain, I have to be an example to my squad,” Suzuna retorted haughtily, then took an even bigger, vicious mouthful that had her cheeks bulging. Riku and Monta snorted quietly.

“About the graduations, though, they’re not going to overlap, right?” Sena asked anxiously as he deconstructed his (gross) grilled chicken burger to add a fuckton of ketchup. In Monta’s opinion, if he had to cover up the actual taste of the thing in _that much_ ketchup, Sena should’ve just gone with a real burger.

Mamori gave Sena a reassuring smile. “Nope, I already made sure months ago. I bothered the administration office since spring semester started and they gave me dates before summer break”

“Yeah, waddn’t Emma da thlackerth?” Monta lisped around an obscene amount of fries and burger in his mouth.

Suzuna wrinkled her nose and nodded with an eyeroll. (Not at Monta’s manners, which she’d given up on while they were dating, and since she was just as bad half the time.) She slurped at her Sprite and informed them, “I finally got the dates for graduation and Enma’s is actually sooner. Just by two days.”

“The squad won’t be the same without you,” Riku told her with a sincere smile on his face. He definitely made up for the earlier comment; Suzuna blushed and scowled in equal measure, flapping her hand erratically.

“None of that sappy stuff!” she exclaimed, her obviously pleased tone belying her words.

“No, Riku-kun is right,” Sena jumped in, grinning gratefully at Riku, then turning back to her. “I can’t imagine playing without you in the squad cheering us on. You’ve been such a major part of amefuto for me.”

“Yeah, why you gotta leave us, Suzu?” Monta chipped in after a painful swallow.

By now, her face was tomato-red and expression flustered. Next to her, Mamori wasn’t even trying to hide her smile. Suzuna’s schoolmates grinned at her unrepentantly as she sputtered, enjoying the good-natured torment. It wasn’t often they turned the tables on her. Not often meaning “almost never”. Of course, Mother Mamori did finally interrupt, arm around Suzuna’s shoulder and giving her a little squeeze.

“Stop that, boys. You’ll make her feel guilty. I’m so proud of you for finishing your course, Suzuna. You’re going to be a great nurse.”

Suzuna sputtered even harder, hands pressing to her hot cheeks and her eyes on the table. “N-No, I- I’ll try?!”

“You’re gonna have a real job before any of us!” Monta added, none too enviously. He couldn’t _wait_ to finish school and get drafted for the NFL. The sooner, the better.

“Th-thanks, everyone. I’m gonna miss it, too. But I’ll be in the stands every game. No way could I give it up completely,” Suzuna’s eyes were actually shining- with excitement or tears or both. “Now please _shut up_ ,” she pleaded desperately. They all laughed, the moment not ruined but definitely made lighter.

“Dude, no way we’ll make you sit way up there,” Monta protested as he started shoveling in the last of his fries.

“Right! You can sit on the bench with us! You don’t need a uniform to be our team. Just like in high school,” Sena agreed- earnest and genuine in a way only he could.

“Sena,” Suzuna said with a special smile shared between them.

“Who are you kiddin’, Taki? You know you would’ve been on the bench before half time anyway,” Riku called her out with a smirk. Suzuna shrugged and nodded.

“Yeah, probably.” They laughed again and fell into eating a bit more.

Sena broke the brief respite with a question to Mamori, “What about you, Mamori-neechan? Aren’t you looking into kindergartens? That place you did your practicum offered you a position, didn’t it?”

“Um, well, yes,” Mamori hedged, tucking her hair behind her ear and looking suddenly very shifty. And very invested in her salad. Suzuna’s antenna twitched as her shiny eyes went _gleamy_.

“This sounds _juicy_. Tell me, tell me!”

“Tell _us!_ ” Monta corrected, leaning forward with both hands on the table.

“If it’s anything like Musashi’s plan…” Riku trailed off suggestively. Suzuna _oooh_ ed as Mamori flinched guiltily and with some surprise.

“Musashi-san? When did you last see Musashi-san?” Sena asked incredulously. Riku jerked his shoulder nonchalantly.

“At Kid’s.” The _duh_ was implied.

“Who cares!?” Suzuna and Monta shouted together.

“What’s going on, Mamo-nee?” Suzuna finished, eager and leaning into Mamori’s side.

Mamori smiled somewhat bashfully, hands lifting and falling helplessly. “I got accepted to a grad school. In New York.”

“NEW YORK?” All the others but Riku yelped in various stages of surprise and delight.

“I still haven’t replied,” she added quickly, sweat beaded her forehead and temples. “I… I think I’m going to. Go, I mean. At least for a Master’s in Ed. I may not stay, but…”

“That’s _so_ amazing! Why didn’t you tell us?” Suzuna reprimanded, arms around one of Mamori’s.

“I didn’t even know you applied, Mamori-neechan,” Sena said, looking proud and a little disappointed.

Mamori smiled down at Suzuna before clapping her hands together and smile-grimacing apologetically towards Sena. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t sure if I would get accepted. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go.”

“You gotta go! We’ll all be in America together then!” Monta argued, eyes shining excitedly.

“Idiot. Suzu and I won’t be going to America,” Riku reminded him with an unimpressed eye roll. Monta groaned in response.

“Well, okay, except for you guys. But a whole bunch of us are gonna get drafted. It’ll be great if you could be there, too, Mamo-nee!”

“Thank you, Monta. I’ll try my best. There’s still a lot to consider…”

Sena spoke up again, frowning slightly. “But what about Musashi-san? If you and Hiruma-san go, is Musashi-san going, too?”

The three ex-Deimon shorties looked between Mamori and Riku expectantly. Riku gestured for the actual _partner_ to answer and Mamori sighed slightly.

“He might be going to America for the first year, maybe two. There’s a construction company that’s based in New York that Youichi got Gen an internship at. Gen was furious at first, but when we found out I got accepted to Columbia, he calmed down a little. He knows Youichi was just looking out for him. We’re both unsure if we’re going to go, but…there’s a reason Youichi pushed for that internship and refused to apologize for going behind Gen’s back. Even if he refuses to actually _admit it_ ,” Mamori said, shaking her head with a despairing sort of fondness.

Monta and Sena exchanged looks. By the looks of it, Sena was just as covered in goosebumps and weirded out by the _Youichi_ s and _Gen_ s as Monta was. Thank goodness. Best bros for life, for reals.

“From what I heard at Kid’s, Musashi’s gunning for a yes. Something about that grad school you got accepted in being the best of the best and Hiruma already being scouted by a bunch of teams. You might as well start packing now.”

Mamori huffed, but a smile lingered around her mouth even as she took another bite of salad.

“Oh my gosh, this just all so amazing! I’m going to be a nurse, Mamo-nee’s going to New York with her two husbands-” Mamori choked on lettuce, “and you three losers will be _dominating_ the Rice Bowl next year. Sena basically asked for Seiju-kun’s hand in marriage-” “ _What- no, I didn’t!”_ “-don’t interrupt, Sena. That’s so rude.” Suzuna said primly. Sena slid down the booth and covered his flaming face with both hands. “And Monta’s gay now, with _Taka_! Poor Riku and I need to get our love life on track to keep up! At least the rest of our life is looking up,” Suzuna said with a teasing glance at Riku. The narrow-eyed glare he sent Suzuna’s way looked a whole lot more heated than the joke warranted. Sena patted Riku’s shoulder comfortingly.

“You’ll find someone eventually. Don’t worry, Riku-kun.”

Riku stared at Sena’s profile, but just shook his head and stabbed savagely at his own salad. Suzuna winced ruefully at him.

“Hey, wait,” Monta interjected with a baffled frown and the food in his mouth shoved to one side. “’m not gay.”

Suzuna blinked at him before a lightbulb went off. “Oh, bisexual? That makes more sense. Sorry, I was mostly joking. I didn’t mean to offend-”

“Offend? _No_. I’m not- Suzuna, I’m not bi. I’m straight, I think?” Monta trailed off, looking up and away and frowning in confusion. “Yeah, still like boobs. Pretty straight.”

“Uh, news flash. You have a boyfriend, man. For more than a month,” Riku replied dryly.

“Yeah, actually, about that. Do you think it’s too soon for sex? Cuz I _really_ wanna have sex,” Monta groaned, slumping over the table. Around him, every single one of his friends choked or sprayed over the table whatever was in their mouths.

“Oh, God, no- What is this hell? Please, for the love of God, no,” Riku begged, dropping his face in his hands in anguish.

“What, but you just said you’re _straight_!” Suzuna barely managed to whisper-shout, rubbing at her mouth with her wrist.

“This isn’t the place for this conversation!” Mamori and Sena both protested at the same time.

“C’ _mon_ , this is friend time. Friends help friends get laid. Please, _holy shit_ , please help me. I have no game. Right, Suzu? Zero game is my _name_. And Taka is hotter than _burning_. How do I seduce _Honjou Taka_?” Monta whined miserably. Riku made a small pained sound against his hands.

“I’m still on the straight thing!” Suzuna exclaimed.

“What about it?” Monta asked, baffled.

“You’re not exactly _straight_ if you’re dating a man and wanting to- um, sleep with him,” Sena pointed out diplomatically. Monta blinked in astonishment.

“Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You _think_?” Riku snapped. Monta flipped him off with a sneer. Riku returned the gesture and the sneer.

“Maybe you’re bi, Monta. We could maybe go back to your place for this talk?” Mamori suggested with a wistful glance towards the door.

“No way, it’s like five stops away. And I don’t think I’m bi,” Monta disagreed.

“If you’re attracted to girls _and_ boys, that’s what bi is,” Suzuna sighed in exasperation. Monta frowned and shook his head.

“But I’m not. It’s just Taka. I think? I guess I kinda notice guys like that a little more, but not really? Like, ‘nice guns, bro’, but then I just think about _Taka’s_ guns and I get hot and bothered. I don’t get the same hard-up for other dudes at the gym,” he told them. “Maybe Taka’s just too hot. I mean, _no one_ is as good-looking as Taka. I’m freakin’ lucky as hell.”

While Suzuna nodded thoughtfully, the other three sort of grimaced. Each of them had their own bias for who they thought was hotter, but at the same time, couldn’t disagree that Taka was the prettiest dude _objectively_ most of them have met.

“If you had to go gay for someone, at least you picked a good one,” Riku allowed, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“ _Still_ not gay, asshole.”

“You don’t-” Sena broke off and fidgeted in his chair uncomfortably. He looked up to see everyone’s expectant faces and winced. “I’m not… I’m not really good at this. Maybe Ems or Tanny would be better to explain it, but when I was in Notre Dame, in the GSA, there were a lot of different kinds of people. A lot of them didn’t like being labelled as gay or straight, they didn’t even like bi. There’s pan and ace and demi and grey, all kinds of confusing labels. But that was kinda their problem? It was just a whole lot of labels and being put into more boxes just to be accepted by someone. A lot them just called themselves ‘queer’.”

Mamori gasped, hand over her mouth. “Isn’t that a very offensive term in America!?” she asked in shock. Sena hesitated, but shook his head.

“Not always. A lot of them preferred it, because of the lack of label. They weren’t just one or another, they were just _queer_. Something about ‘taking the word back’ or something. I didn’t quite understand, but Tanny calls herself queer, even though she’s only ever dated women.”

Monta scrunched his nose and scratched at his cheek. “I guess I like it, too. Sure. I like girls, I _really_ like girls, but I like Taka more. So I’m straight, but I’ve got a boyfriend. I guess I’m just queer.”

Suzuna tilted her head, then shrugged and lifted her hands in the air. “All right. Whatever makes you happy, Monta.”

“Can we get back to the _important_ part? The part where you tell me how to get in Taka’s pants? Cuz I _really_ need help. I’m gonna explode if I have to wait anymore.”

“No, let’s go back to the labelling crap. Tell us more about the labels, Sena. It’ll make his _head_ explode and the conversation will die with him,” Riku asked Sena, who pulled a lopsided and awkward face- not quite a smile, not quite a grimace. Monta shoved Riku into Sena’s side roughly, making them laugh shortly.

“Shut the hell up and _help_.” When Riku opened his mouth, obviously to sass, Monta glared warningly.

“He’s attracted to you… right?” Sena prompted slowly. Riku shot him a betrayed look and Sena smiled in apology.

“Yeah, we definitely cleared that up! We make out all the time, and it’s really rad, don’t get me wrong, but he always stops it before even a shirt comes off. He ain’t a _prude_ , so what’s the deal?” Monta grumbled, foot tapping on the ground loudly.

“Maybe he thinks _you’re_ the prude. You did date _all of this_ ,” Suzuna gestured to herself and winked, making Monta bark out a laugh, “but we never had sex. Not all the way.”

Monta twisted up his mouth and scowled. “Ya think?”

“That’s what happened with me ‘n Seijuuro,” Sena pointed out.

“Yeah, but neither of you made it _clear_ you wanted it. It’s kinda impossible for me to subtle about it. I think I humped his leg once. It was humiliating and really hot at the same time,” Monta sighed. He blushed and glared as the girls giggled. “Ha ha.”

“If he likes you, which he does, and he’s attracted to you, which he is, you don’t need some grand seduction scheme, Monta,” Mamori finally weighed in with a smile. “Just tell him you want to, what you _want_ to do specifically might help.”

“Ooooh, yeah, it’s almost like dirty talk that way while clearing up the air!” Suzuna agreed excitedly.

“Please, don’t-” Riku whispered, eyes rolling heavenward just as Monta _did_ ask,

“What do I want?”

“Fuck my life. Dude, do you want to top or bottom? Or do you not wanna do anal at all? Those are the questions you need to ask and answer _right now_ and if you fuck around about it, I’ll punch you.”

Monta squinted at Riku. “You were a lot nicer to Sena about this.”

“I like Sena more. Duh. Now, answer the questions.”

Mamori and Suzuna were laughing helplessly at this point, leaning against each other to hold each other up. While Sena sat between Monta and Riku looking like he regretted his seating choice _immensely_.

“I think I wanna try. Going all the way. It’s good… right?” he directed that at Sena. Who blanched bone-white and shook his head wildly.

“I do _not_ talk about the details of my sex life!” he hissed desperately. Monta gave him puppy eyes, just as desperate. With a quiet groan, Sena rubbed his face and leaned forward. Everyone else did (Mamori and Suzuna had been bothered him for details for _years_ , so they were just as eager as Monta at that point. Riku looked interested despite himself.) so they could hear his lowered voice. “Fine, but this stays _here_ , with us, got it?”

Heads nodded. He sighed again.

“I bottom. A lot. Cuz I like it. When it’s done right, it’s really good. I’ll give you what you need if you want to try it, but topping might be easier for you the first time and it’s just as good.” Sena paused and scrunched his nose. “Well, Seijuuro says that. But I prefer bottoming.”

“Wait, Shin lets you _top_?” Monta whispered hoarsely.

Sena gave him a _look_. Probably the most judgmental face he’d ever seen Sena make. “Yes. We switch up what we do pretty regularly. Since I _have_ a preference, and I tend to have more… um… sexual drive than Seijuuro, I tend to lead the direction.” Everyone stared at him. His face flushed red. “Please, stop staring. It’s not exactly flattering what I think your opinion of me is now.”

“No, no, I kinda suspected it this whole time,” Suzuna breathed out, antenna twitching and cheeks pink. “But now it’s confirmed and this is the _best_.”

“What she said,” Riku agreed with a jerk of his chin towards Suzuna. “Except for that last part.”

“I think it’s great how open you two have been about sex with each other!” Mamori said, impressed, hands clasped in front of her mouth and face just as red at Sena’s. “I just didn’t think you’d ever tell details. I can’t stop picturing it now.”

“Oh, God. Please, stop picturing it!” Sena moaned, hiding his face in his hands.

“I will never stop picturing it,” Suzuna said with a beaming, dreamy smile on her face.

“That’s just weird. Stop that,” Riku retorted, tossing his empty cup at Suzuna’s face. A small war of cups and trash between the two began, but the other three ignored them.

“So… it’s not…weird? Topping? Even though he’s taller and… uh, bigger than you?” Monta asked at last, throat and mouth feeling dry.

Mamori and Sena gave him empathetic smiles. “You’ve been worried about that, haven’t you?” she asked kindly. Monta dropped his gaze to the table and pouted irritably. “You don’t have to do a certain thing because you feel like it’s expected of you. Just like you don’t like those straight or gay labels. You don’t need a label in bed because of how you and Taka-kun look.”

“You never know, Honjou-san could prefer bottoming. It has nothing to do with someone’s size, or even their personality. Besides, if he cares about you, he’ll take how you feel about it in consideration,” Sena said firmly.

Monta nodded slowly and then released a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks, guys. I’ve wanted to have sex for, like, weeks. Since before me n’ Tak even started dating. But I was kinda waiting on him for cues, yanno? What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to _want_ to do?”

“And maybe Honjou-san picked up on that. Like Seijuuro did. They’re both really smart,” Sena noted with a wry smile. Monta snorted loudly.

“How did we both end up dating super tall, rich, smart dudes? Thank God we didn’t fall for the _same_ tall, rich, smart dude. I woulda had t’kill you if you’d moved in on Taka,” Monta joked, the following laugh a little sharp. Sena laughed edgily, unsure just how serious that last comment was.

“Now that this is over, can we leave? I need to shoot up some aliens until this conversation is drowned out of my brain,” Riku asked, gathering up the mess he and Suzuna had made.

“I missed the ending ‘cuz of you. The first round is us and I’m gonna kick your _butt_ ,” Suzuna warned.

“Yeah, let’s get going,” Mamori agreed thankfully, helping the cleanup.

“I, uh…I’m gonna nix the alien shooting. I’m gonna head to Tak’s,” Monta said, uncertain at first, but confident by the end of his statement.

Sena gaped at him. “Right now? _Right now_?”

“Yeah, right now.” Monta slapped his hands to his cheeks and an exhaled gustily. “Before I lose my nerve. Just tell him what I want. Then, just start taking my clothes off. That’ll work, right?”

Suzuna squeaked as she tried to keep in her laughter. “Y-Yes, th-that’s g-g-good.”

“Please, just leave.” Riku rubbed his forehead.

“Fuck you, bro,” Monta said absently, already scrambling out of the booth and digging in his pants for his phone. “Wish me luck, guys!” he called out, waving his phone at them and booking it out the restaurant.

All four of them burst into laughter, collapsing onto the table. Actual tears were in Suzuna’s eyes and her laughter turned high-pitched and hyena-like.

“P-Poor T-Takkachin,” she wheezed.

“He’ll have no idea what hit him,” Mamori gasped, wiping at her own eyes.

“Y-You d-did this. This is your fault, Sena, Mamo-nee,” Riku scolded between chuckles.

Sena barely managed to collect himself to ask, “Should we warn Honjou-san?”

They shared another look, and burst into fresh gales of laughter.

“He b-better t-tell me _everything_ ,” Suzuna gasped.

* * *

 

Monta threw up his hands in frustration, groaning loud and angrily. “C’mon, dude, _dude_ , just let me up! You know me by now! I come here all the friggin’ time!”

“Hey, Monta! What up?” shouted a few guys walking past towards the staircases.

Monta gestured towards the group of students with an incredulous expression on his face. “THEY KNOW ME!”

The desk attendant just looked at him, unimpressed and unswayed. “If he’s not here to buzz you up, you can’t go up, Taro-san.”

Monta slumped over the desk and scattered pens and papers heedlessly. “Oh, God, not _Taro-san_. Monta, my name is _Monta_ ,” he whined, ignoring the attendant's poisonous glares because of the mess.

“Raimon?"

He jerked upright, grinning in relief. “HA! Sucker, he’s here,” he snapped at the desk clerk, flipping him the bird. The man at the desk adjusted his glasses and shrugged. Monta scowled and stomped his way to where Taka was standing at the front doors.

“I wasn’t expecting you for a few hours. I got a text from Tanaka saying you were harassing him again,” Taka said questioningly, eyebrow high as he tugged the strap of his gym bag more securely on his shoulder. His damp hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, like it normally was after a gym shower until he could get to his dorm and blow dry it. (Monta may or may not have been absolutely fascinated by the whole process the first time. He was hoping to help eventually, but Taka was _really_ finicky about his hair.)

“Dude, if anyone’s harassed, it’s _me_ ,” Monta grumbled. They headed towards the staircase to make it up to Taka’s room.

“You didn’t say why you came so early? I thought it was a friend-date day. No boyfriends or girlfriends allowed?” Taka asked again, a little perplexed. Monta _had_ been pretty pumped about it (mainly the fact he had a _boyfriend_ to _un_ invite in the first place. He’d been _really_ proud of that).

“I have a mission,” Monta told him fiercely, hand in a clenched fist in front of him.

Taka stared at him. “Do you care to elaborate?” he asked a long moment later.

Monta rubbed his nose and carefully didn’t look Taka’s way. He’d blurt it out right there in the stairway and he could just _see_ his friends shaking their heads at him. “Uh, yeah, but maybe once we get to your room. How much you’d lift today?”

Taka looked even more confused, but let Monta lead him into a talk about his work out and how practice had been going. The entire trek up the stairs, Monta was fidgeting. Hands tapping on the railing, hopping up two or three stairs, just to jump back down to Taka, catching the toes of his sneakers on the stairs and cussing loud enough to echo in the small confined space of the stairwell. Taka threw him look after look, but Monta just laughed him off and changed the subject again. When they got to the dorm, Monta couldn’t keep his hands still and his mouth was pressed into a line so flat the skin around his lips was white. Taka was answering something about… something- fuck, what were they talking about? Monta rubbed the back of his neck, glaring towards the ground and trying not to cuss again.

The door opened at last and Monta barely heard the thump of the duffel bag being dumped on the floor at the foot of the bed.

“So, what’s this-” Taka turned to see Monta closing and locking the door at his back, eyes still on the ground. “Raimon?”

Gritting his teeth and sucking up the nerve, Monta reached out and grasped Taka’s track suit blazer in both hands and yanked him forward. Only quick reflexes honed over years of dedicated practice prevented them from slamming face first in a collision. Taka’s hands slapped against the door on either side of Monta’s shoulders to hold him up and his wide eyes meeting Monta’s flashing ones just before Monta leaned up into a kiss.

They had gotten _really_ good at this- kissing each other they way they both liked it. Monta had no idea that people could like _different_ ways of kissing, that you _could_ kiss differently, or even that people could have kissing preferences, until he’d started dating Taka and it felt like he'd had to re-learn everything. However, he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said they made out _a lot_. They’d gotten to a good rhythm within a coupla days, to be honest. Monta was no quitter and Taka was just good at everything. The bewildered tension in Taka’s body disappeared and Monta would’ve fistpumped in triumph the moment Taka stepped into his space and pressed their bodies as close together as possible- he didn’t though because Taka probably would’ve stopped kissing him on principle. Which would be very counter-productive to the ‘Seduce Taka’ plan going on. Monta smoothed his hands up Taka’s chest, mouth parting wider and pulse racing as his hands slid up the back of Taka’s neck.

With an annoyed grumble, Monta wrenched his mouth away and glared over Taka’s shoulder. “Yer hair. Take it down. I can't, I’ll yank it or something,” Monta demanded with a scowl. Yeah, Taka looked hot with his hair up, but no way was he not gonna bury his hands in Taka’s hair in a make-out sesh. Oh hell no.

Taka huffed and rocked back onto his heels to stand properly and loosen his hair.

“What’s gotten into you?” Taka asked as he did something complicated out of Monta’s sight just before his silver hair cascaded down.

 _Hell yeah_.

“Huh? Oh, right.” Monta sank his hands into Taka’s hair eagerly and pulled him back down, this time with Taka bending willingly and his hands on Monta’s hips. “We should have sex.”

Taka froze, the grip of his hands suddenly slack and his mouth- still puffy and pink from the kiss- fell open in astonishment. “Excuse me.”

Monta rolled his eyes and ignored the heat burning his ears and neck. “I said _we should have sex_. I really _really_ want to have sex with you. If you were worried about that,” he added with a suspicious squint at Taka’s gobsmacked face. “I dunno if I want you to fuck me, like, I dunno what I gotta do for that, but we could- if you wanna… I would… I would top the shit outta you if that’s cool,” Monta blurted out in rush.

Taka covered his face with his hand as his shoulders shook. “I- I would be… cool with that,” he choked out.

“That kinda sounds like you’re laughing at me, bro. Suzuna said being honest would be sexy. What a fucking liar, I’m gonna kill her.”

“Don’t- Don’t ask to fuck me in one breath and call me bro the next, Raimon. It’s too no homo for me.”

“Yeah, good point,” Monta agreed- for once.

“If you’re sure, I… I am not opposed to moving faster,” Taka said, almost too formally. Monta made a ‘what the fuck’ face at him.

“Dude, what? Are you sure? You don’t sound really into it,” Monta argued, pulling his hands away and trying to step back, just to hit the door with his heel.

“No, it’s not-” Taka exhaled heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that. I was just worried about moving too fast. You still call yourself straight and were really confused about it all. I didn’t want to… scare you away, I suppose.”

Monta deadpanned with an impressively unimpressed face. “What, you thought your dick was gonna scare me off? You have a real high opinion of your dick, Tak.”

“Oh, God, Raimon,” Taka finally broke, his head thumping onto Monta’s shoulder as he burst into pained laughter. Monta groaned in aggravation.

“This is _not_ making the mood sexy. Stop fucking- are you laughing _harder_? Damn it, Tak! I’m serious! One of us is gettin’ fucked  _today_.”

Taka’s hand returned to Monta’s hip, just so he could hold himself up with both hands as he collapsed against Monta breathless with laughter. Monta thunked the back of his head against the door and whined.

“Just… one moment,” Taka gasped. Monta’s face heated beet-red when Taka’s lips brushed the side of his side in a sweet, chaste kiss. Shivers ran down Monta’s spine at the action- mostly because of the _cheese_ of it.

“Taka…”

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ll handle the receiving this time. You can’t just _go for it_ whenever you want,” Taka told him, straightening and brushing his lips over Monta’s temple. Monta snaked his arms around Taka’s neck again just in time for their eyes to meet.

“Does that mean… _you’re_ ready to go for it?” Monta asked, puzzled and frowning.

Taka actually looked away, embarrassment on his features. “I thought I had some time before you came over. I tend to use that time wisely these past few days.”

Monta stared at him, face scrunched up. “The fuck does that mean?”

“I was rather sexually active before we started dating. I haven’t… not since you came to visit Osaka.”

Monta gaped. “You- You’ve been _jacking off_ before I come over? Are you _kidding_ me?!”

“Yes, sometimes.” Taka sighed. “Other times, it requires more preparation and equipment. Today was going to be one such day.”

Monta hadn’t felt this confused and turned on at the same time in his life. Okay, well, actually, that first morning boner in Osaka might still win out, but it was pretty close. “What the hel-? Oh. _Oh_.” His eyes about popped out of his head when it clicked.

“Yes, Raimon,” Taka said dryly.

“That’s probably the hottest thing ever,” Monta exhaled shakily. Taka’s smirk was wry.

“I’m glad you think so. This would become awkward quickly if not.”

“Okay, shhh, dude, I’m imagining it. Don’t ruin this,” Monta muttered, eyes glassy and distant.

Taka scoffed in amusement. “You realize you don’t _need_ to imagine it.”

Monta swallowed hard and he could already feel his pants getting tighter. _Crapcrapcrap_ , he was about to have sex, _with Taka_ , and he had no idea what to do next. He’d been in this situation before, he’d gotten to third base before; he was a virgin, but not a _newb_ , damn it. Taka ended the panic before it began with a fierce, hard kiss that Monta eagerly lurched into. As in- threw himself at Taka, hands burying his hair and deepening the kiss enthusiastically. Taka’s arms wrapped around his waist, hauling him onto the balls of his feet, as Monta licked into Taka’s mouth. Tongues twined and slipped over lips and the edges of teeth. The low, shuddering sigh Taka made when Monta twisted his hands in his hair and pulled just right had Monta’s hips arching forward. There wasn’t quite the friction he wanted, just his jeans rubbing over his dick, and suddenly standing was shitty. Really shitty. They needed to get horizontal _now_.

They stumbled towards the bed, Taka walking backwards easily and Monta uncoordinated as fuck, especially with his attention divided by tugging off the track blazer. Taka’s knees hit the mattress with an ‘oof’ into Monta’s mouth and the blazer was flung off to the side victoriously. Monta pulled away just long enough to ‘help’ Taka flop to the bed, then he clambered onto Taka’s lap a second later, hands going for the hem of Taka’s shirt.

“You don’t have to-” Taka paused as his shirt was torn over his head, “move so quickly.” Monta snorted roughly and tossed the shirt (probably) somewhere near the blazer.

“Yeah, right,” Monta muttered, tearing his own shirt off and throwing it aside.

Taka tipped back his head and curled his hand around the back of Monta’s neck, pulling him down into a lingering, mind-numbing kiss that had Monta’s toes curling in his shoes. Cool hands stroking up his back and his own hands, hot and hopefully not clammy, smoothed down Taka’s chest. Taka was less hairy than Monta, who had a patch of chest hair narrowing down the center of his belly to disappear under the waist of his boxers that were peeking out the top of his jeans. Monta had been _very_ proud of the chest hair, but Taka looked so friggin’ good without it. He also liked this position of Taka being _under_ him, getting his fill from a different angle than usual as he knelt over Taka’s lap. His mouth trailed down Taka’s jawline, to his throat, where Monta scraped his teeth over smooth skin and sucked lightly. Taka’s hands were cupping his ass and pulling him _down_ , the pressure making them moan low and hoarse. Monta rocked down again, one hand in Taka’s hair and tugging and the other gripping Taka’s shoulder tightly. Taka didn’t seem to notice, just used his hands on Monta’s ass to guide him, keeping him from moving too fast, too hard, even as Monta shuddered and panted between biting kisses down Taka’s neck.

His axis was tilting and Monta grunted at the impact of his hand to the mattress and his chest to Taka’s under him. He pushed himself up, arm muscles tensing, and glared half-lidded and pupils-wide down at Taka’s smirking flushed face.

“Warn a guy,” Monta complained, shifting the weight on his knees and hissing at the scrape of his zipper on his aching erection.

“I’ll do my best,” Taka replied absently.

His gaze was locked on his hands tracing the line of dark hair on Monta’s belly, though, and his feet were kicking off his shoes. Monta hurried to do the same, leaning side to side to drag each sneaker off with his toes. With a mental _fuck you_ to the socks, Monta sat back up to fumble at the button and zipper of his jeans. Taka shifted to his elbows, wild mussy hair sliding over his shoulder and the muscles in his arms looking like something airbrushed in a magazine.

“Again, you can slow down. I’m not changing my mind.”

“You _better_ not,” Monta squawked in outrage at the words even being _said_ aloud, his glare furious. Taka rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. “Okay, so, that come out douchey. We can stop if _you’re_ not sure, but I am _so fucking sure_ right now,” Monta exclaimed, dragging his hands through his hair.

He blinked and stared down at his pants while Taka patiently finished where Monta hadn’t been able to with his all-thumbs-problem.

“I’m very sure about this. But the first time tends to be… lackluster. Don’t put so much pressure on yourself to get it over with,” Taka said, tugging down Monta’s pants just far enough to drag his thumbs over Monta’s hipbones and taking the too big boxers down with the movement. Monta felt strangled by cloth pinning down his cock that was already making a damp, gross mess in his boxers.

Monta’s brows came down, eyes serious and dark, the muscle in his taut jaw jumping. “Tak, I don’t wanna get it over with, I just wanna do it. Stop being so worried ‘bout me and have fun,” he ordered. Taka’s eyes met his, surprised and somehow soft. He nodded once.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

Monta grinned briefly and turned his attention back to Taka’s body laid out under him. A second’s hesitation until determination slid his hands down Taka’s bare torso, had him leaning down to follow his hands with his mouth. Careful to use just the tip of his tongue to trace the ridges and lines of Taka’s muscles, Monta lingered at Taka’s chest. He flicked his tongue over the peak of Taka’s nipple. It didn’t quite get the reaction he was expecting, but it was still appreciated if the way Taka’s fingers dug into the sides of his butt were any clue. Wondering if more equaled better, Monta sucked the tight bud into his mouth and bit down just enough for Taka to curse and arch under him. The raspy, urgent moan of his name was a bolt of heat straight to his groin. Just as he gave in and ground down his hips, Taka rocked up. Like a switch, it stopped being _slow_. Taka’s hand around the back of his neck tightened while the other grasped Monta’s ass to lead him again into grinding down in a faster, unrelenting pace that had Monta seeing stars. His mouth pulled away from Taka’s nipple with a slick pop before trailing his mouth over to the other side and treating the other to the same action. His own hands returned to their earlier mission- moving _south_ \- without the dillydallying around. Monta’s adrenaline-shook hands tore at the loose, elastic waistband of Taka’s gym track pants.

“Oh thank god,” Monta mumbled, lips moving over damp, flushed skin and the pebbled, hard tip of Taka’s nipple. “Fuck buttons.”

Taka laughed breathlessly, the muscles in his stomach tensing as he fluidly lifted his pelvis to help Monta drag the pants off. There was some fumbling and limb untangling necessary, but between Monta’s enthusiasm and Taka’s steadier hands, two sets of pants and underwear were kicked to the ground. Monta knelt over Taka, breathing a little too hard, with his hand flat on the bed and Taka’s naked  _everything_ on display beneath him, between his legs.

“What- What do we do now?” Monta blurted, eyes racking down all that bare, pale skin. Monta’s throat clicked on a swallow seeing Taka’s cock, flushed several shades darker than the rest of him and lying thick and hard over his lower belly. Monta’s dick, hanging between his legs and _painful_ actually bobbed in the air, precum sliding down the length of him just from  _looking_.

Oh yeah, this was gonna be over quick and it wasn’t because he _wanted_ it to be.

“Open the drawer. I’ll take care of it,” Taka suggested, gesturing towards the nightstand as he rolled onto his belly.

It was a struggle to move away, especially now that _dat ass_ was in sight. As high and tight as Monta remembered. And he was gonna- _crapcrapcrap._ He almost threw himself off the bed to grab at the drawer, yanking it open with too much strength. He winced as the lamp wobbled and the alarm clock toppled to the ground. There was merely a weary sigh from Taka and Monta sheepishly glanced into the drawer. An opened box of condoms caught his eye right off the bat and a bottle of lube that looked mostly new. He stared, body locking tight all over, as it hit him, the realization that this was _really_ about to happen. _Holy crapcrapcrap_ , Monta thought incredulously.

With jerky and abrupt motions, he tore a condom free from the box, and dropped it to the bed. Then, he sat back on his heels with the bottle of lube in one hand and his concentrated frown on the other hand. He glanced up at a word from Taka, his mouth drying at the sight of Taka laid all out and one arm under the pillow and hips tilted up. _Invitingly. Hooolyyy shit._ Taka held out a hand.

“Huh?” Monta muttered stupidly.

“Give me the bottle, Raimon,” he answered patiently.

“What? Oh! No, wait, man, I can do it. I’m s’pposed to, right?” Monta said pointedly, thumb flicking open the top. He stared a little blankly at Taka’s _amazing_ butt. “Though… uh, having a condom for my hands might be nice. Sorry that was stupid- Just- but, yeah, you can just help me through it, right?” Monta babbled a little, chuckling a little awkwardly.

Taka eyed him warily, but silently. “Look in the drawer. There are gloves in there.”

Monta stared at him uncomprehendingly, flabbergasted at the 1) gloves in Taka’s drawer in the middle of the summer, and 2) why they mattered. He glanced towards the still open drawer and saw another, smaller box of _latex_ gloves and the lightbulb clicked.

“OH! Like condoms for my hands?” Monta blurted.

Taka actually _snorted_ , lips pressed together to keep from laughing. “I’m hoping you won’t use your entire hand,” he replied, voice tight and shaking. Monta stared at Taka’s butt horrified and had Taka bursting into laughter. “I can do it, Raimon. You don’t have to this time.”

“No way, Tak, I’m gonna do it.” Monta put his game face on and snatched a glove from the box. It was totally weird, snapping a rubber glove on while totally naked and hard as a rock (also kinda difficult, he had no idea how big his hands were until he tried to shove one in a small latex glove, _what the hell_ ), but he couldn’t help the snicker as he poured lube into his hand. “Are we gonna play doctor?”

“Get out. You ruined it.” Taka deadpanned. He actually _yelped_ in shock when Monta’s hand- free now that he’d dropped the lube off to the side- slapped Taka’s ass smartly.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Monta forced out, before guffawing wildly at outraged and stunned look on Taka’s face. He doubled over, forehead pressed to the middle of Taka’s back, one hand held up awkwardly, as he gasped his laughter.

“I’d appreciate discussing kinks _before_ getting spanked next time,” Taka finally muttered, in his bland, dry way that had Monta almost howling. “Any time you’re ready,” he added, though he sounded pretty close to laughing himself now.

It took a moment, but even the laughter and the weirdness of glove-wearing hadn’t dampened Monta’s raging hard on. With a few last chuckles under his breath, he pushed himself up and stroked his hand- the spanking offender- down Taka’s spine and over the curve of his ass. Heart beating staccato against the back of his breastbone, Monta gripped the firm, round globe of Taka’s ass cheek and bared his hole. His thumb traced the line down the middle, pausing to press against the pucker of his entrance, mouth falling open when Taka canted up his hips and groaned quietly into the pillow. He licked his parched lips and brought his slicked-and-gloved finger to Taka’s hole, lightly circling as he kept his ass spread wide. With a quiet, shaky inhale, he pressed in, slipping past barely any resistance as Taka moaned louder sounding almost relieved. Monta bit down on his lip and began withdraw, only to press in to his knuckle, mesmerized and flushed hot from head to toe as Taka’s body moved with the motion. He was suddenly- incredulously- fingerfucking Taka in earnest, speechless and almost panting, leaning closer to lay his mouth on Taka’s nude skin. His teeth scraped over skin, lips and tongue working to create dark marks down Taka’s back. All the time, his hand kept up thrusting.

“An-Another, Raimon,” Taka hissed out. When Monta looked up, his hands were curled into the sheets, bracing him so he could arch his back and ride the movement of Monta’s hand. Monta actually pressed his sweaty forehead into Taka’s shoulderblade, groaning as his hand gripped the base of his dick. Watching Taka enjoy this so much should not be so fucking hot. No, wait, it definitely _should_ be this fucking hot.

With an unsteady breath, Monta did as Taka requested, second finger joining the first and slowly pushing in. The long, low, shuddery breath Taka made, his hips grinding _down_ into the mattress, as if desperate for pressure on his dick, getting off on just Monta’s fingers-

“Fuck, babe,” Monta whispered. He wrapped an arm around Taka’s waist, hand pressing against his flat belly, and grunted as he jerked Taka up, his fingers sliding in deeper at the motion.

“ _Raimon_ ,” Taka groaned against the pillow, a flush travelling down his fair skin. “Right there. God, your fucking hands.”

Resolved to hear that again and feeling pretty friggin’ pleased with himself, Monta grinned and set about moving faster and harder, aiming for that spot he’d apparently glanced past. It took a few tries, but he found it with a loud curse from Taka before the older man all but melted on the bed with only Monta’s arm holding up his lower half. Monta crooked his fingers, frowning in concentration. After that, he barely had to move his arm, as Taka effectively took over, rocking himself onto Monta’s fingers over and over again as Monta babbled some sort of encouragements.

“Holy shit, Tak, you’re the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Keep it up, babe. Like that, _fuck damn_ ,” he branded into Taka’s skin. He had absolutely no idea _what_ he was saying, honestly. He wanted to get in another finger, but Taka felt so fucking tight around him… he spread out his two fingers and a full-blown shiver ran down Taka’s body, shaking them both. “Was that good, babe?” The tiniest trace of doubt snaked its way into Monta’s voice and Taka half-turned. He reached out, wrapped his hand around Monta’s neck and dragged him down into a sloppy, mostly tongue kiss that swept away the worry.

“Yeah, do it again. You’re doing perfect, Raimon,” Taka assured him. Monta sighed softly, knocked their foreheads together, and slanted his mouth over Taka's, drugged on the taste of his mouth, just as he scissored his fingers a little more, wide knuckles dragging against the rim and making Taka _quake_.

They rode that wave, breathing harsh and loud into each other’s mouth, lips shiny and slick. His third finger Monta finally managed to work into Taka’s tight hole, and they froze as Taka’s body adjusted to the fit. At Taka’s nod, Monta started thrusting lazy and slow, his mouth a damp pressure down Taka’s jaw to his throat, soft, long hair tickling Monta’s mouth and cheek.

“N-Now, Raimon, stop now,” Taka gasped an eternity- or five seconds- later. Monta pulled his hand away so fast Taka moaned on a strangled, startled cry.

“Oh my god, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Tak?” Monta babbled, struggling to his knees and his one hand slipping over the sheets.

“No, Raimon, calm down! I just meant, get a _condom_ and use your _dick_!” Taka exclaimed, covering his face in his hand and trying not to laugh or groan more at the abrupt emptiness.

“Oh… well, _say that_!” Monta grumbled, beet-red and tearing at the glove on his hand. Taka huffed and lay his hand on Monta’s hot face, cool thumb brushing his cheek just under his eye. The glove snapped and fell to the ground and Monta glared bashfully up at Taka’s half-covered face. His pretty hair was fanned over the pillow and sliding over his neck, the flush on his face made brighter by the silver of his hair. He looked like a freakin' angel and Monta wanted to cheer his good luck to the entire dorm or brain himself for being so fucking corny even in his own head.

“I was a little distracted and I really want to have you in me before I cum,” Taka answered bluntly, smirking at Monta’s flustered sputters. The angelic image crashed and burned a swift, fiery death. “Maybe _next time_ you can see if you can get me to climax with only your fingers.”

“Holy- Damn it, Tak! Don’t say that shit right now. I’m gonna die,” Monta whined, hand on his dick for what seemed like the thousandth time to keep from blowing his load.

“Don’t be so melodramatic. Where’s the condom?”

“Uh, right, it’s somewhere- are we gonna fuck like this?” Monta asked, blinking and thoughtful. Taka stared back.

“As opposed to…?” Taka prompted.

“I dunno, face to face?” Monta mumbled while scratching the side of his nose. He wrinkled said nose at the smell of latex and powder on his hand.

Taka huffed fondly, combed his fingers through Monta’s hair, and pulled him down for a sweet, lingering kiss that shouldn’t have shook Monta that much after having his fingers where the sun don’t shine. But it did. He was definitely _shook_.

“I don’t need to look you in the eye to know it’s you. But if you prefer that, we can,” Taka answered quietly, simply. Monta exhaled softly.

“That’s not- okay, yeah, maybe a little.”

“Raimon, look at me, right now,” Taka said sternly. Monta raised his eyes and met the light brown gaze that was fierce and gentle at once. “There’s no one else in this room with me. And having sex has never mattered this much with anyone else. Isn’t it obvious yet?”

“What?” Monta muttered, shifty and red-faced at the sheer _sap_ happening.

“It was always you. It took us awhile to get here, but I’m not going anywhere,” Taka stated. Monta gulped painfully and nodded. “This is going to stick because it’s _you_ and _me_ , got it?”

“Yeah... yeah me, too.”

“So, does it matter?”

Monta frowned and then shrugged a shoulder. “I actually like it this way. I think I might last longer if I don’t see your face. You’re kinda stupid hot, babe.”

“Ah, right. _Babe_?” Taka’s eyebrow arched sardonically.

Monta flinched. “Shit, sorry, is that-”

“Much better than bro? God, yes.”

Monta burst out laughing and reluctantly pulled away. “All right then. Babe’s okay?”

“You could do worse, you _have_ done worse,” Taka retorted. His eyes scanned over Monta’s face for a second, before he turned back onto his belly, hands sliding under the pillow to grip the sheets again. “It’s fine. Now please continue where we left off.”

“Bossy bossy. You’re what they call a powerbottom, aren’t you?” Monta mumbled, searching for the condom as he laid one hand on Taka’s waist. Taka’s laughter was muffled, but obvious.

“Raimon, just shut up and fuck me.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Monta complained, mouth twitching up. He found the condom under his knee and swiftly tore it open with trembling fingers.

The condom rolled on, greasing his hands and fingers and making him hiss between his teeth at even that slight friction. Scraping the bottom of the proverbial barrel for will power, he pulled his hands away and grasped Taka’s hips. He willingly allowed Monta to lift his pelvis up higher, tilting at just the right angle. He didn’t try to take the control away, though, just waited patiently and let Monta take his time, gather up the nerve to pull his ass cheeks wide and slide his dick up the cleft of Taka’s ass. He stared, eyes wide, rocking up and down, then pressed the tip of his cock to Taka’s hole. Slowly, fingers digging into skin so hard the flesh turned white, Monta pressed his length into Taka. He distantly thought, maybe, stop, wait? But Taka was only moaning encouragements, arms shaking and Monta didn’t stop until his hipbones met the round curve of Taka’s butt. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted to stay like this, chest heaving and Taka under him, around him, tight and hot and so fucking _good_.

“Raimon, _move_ or _I will_ ,” Taka snapped, his voice wire-thin and words clipped.

With a gulp, Monta pulled back just barely, moan ripped out of him, and snapped his hips forward.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” he breathed. He fell over Taka’s back, both arms wrapped around Taka’s chest, around his shoulders, to grip tight and secure so he could thrust into him, again and again. He ground into that tight, clenching heat, hips stuttering arrhythmically. Everything was _Taka_. The smell of his sweat and soap, the brush of his hair on Monta’s face, the sound of his grunts at each slap of Monta’s pelvis against his ass. He couldn’t even pull out very far, too drunk on the tight heat encasing him, spots in his vision as his rapidly nearing climax roared in his head.

“Babe, fuck _fuck_ , babe, I can’t- not long,” Monta panted, pained and desperate against Taka’s neck. He felt the nod, the pressure of a hand over his on Taka’s shoulder.

“That’s it, Raimon. It’s good,” Taka gasped, fingers tightening around Monta’s. He sounded breathless, each word forced out, his body moving with Monta's and his whole body flushed. Monta wanted to put his lips on every each of him, but he stopping was impossible when Taka looked and felt and sounded so damn good. “You can go ahead.”

If he could've he would’ve protested. Just because it was _too soon_. And it was _too good_. The idea of stopping, of it ending so quickly, was hell. He wanted to grind into the heat of Taka’s body for the rest of his fucking life. That was _probably_ the sex talking, but _damn_ it, that didn’t make it less true. He gritted his teeth and let out an almost sob sounding moan, hips working in short, body-jarring thrusts as he shuddered out his release, eyes squeezed shut tight. His hand ran down Taka’s chest, stopping at the hard length of his erection, soaked with its own precum. Taka instinctively rocked into his slack grip and Monta grunted, pained, at the motion on his sensitive dick still as deep as possible inside Taka.

“Fuck, wait, don’t-” Monta cut off and gripped the base of the condom to pull out, flinching when Taka did. “Give me another glove.”

“What? Just move your hand, damn it,” Taka growled, actually _growled_. Monta slipped his thumb over the slick, smooth head and Taka’s breath knocked out of him.

“Get me a _glove_ ,” Monta repeated, nuzzling at Taka’s hairline. The drawer rattled and glove slapped Monta’s face. He sputtered and laughed and pulled away to Taka’s loud protest. “Wait a fucking minute, you diva.”

“I’m two seconds from doing it _myself_ ,” Taka retorted, his hand actually moving as he spoke. Monta grasped the hand and pinned it to Taka’s chest, using his weight on Taka’s back to press him back down, only his hips raised high in the cradle of Monta's pelvis.

“I got it, babe,” Monta promised, his newly gloved hand stroking over Taka’s butt. Three fingers slipped in, easy and sudden.

Taka hollered into the mattress, moving in time with Monta’s swiftly thrusting fingers. A smacking kiss to Taka’s shoulder just before Monta released the pinned hand and wrapped his hand around Taka’s cock again. He didn’t really need to do much. Taka fucked into Monta’s hand himself, while Monta kept up an insistent pace with his fingers, crooking just right. His dick, spent and wet, twitched against his thigh in vain, but if it had lasted much longer maybe not so vain. Unfortunately, (or not so much) after he thumbed over head of Taka’s cock, Monta felt him shudder, felt his dick stiffen in his hand, until suddenly he was coming over Monta’s knuckles, hips working onto his fingertips as he moaned out Monta’s name.

They collapsed onto their sides, Monta’s ass and one socked foot hanging off the edge of the bed so Taka could avoid his mess. Their ragged, rapid breaths echoed in the private dorm and Taka’s stupid hair was fanned over Monta’s sweaty, dumbstruck, and grinning face.

“I’ve never felt so gay in my life.”

“ _Damn it, Raimon_.”

He laughed, his whole body shaking and his arms tightening around Taka’s waist. “I’m _starving_.”

“Why must you ruin the afterglow?”

“Ugh, who needs afterglow? Gimme ten minutes and we can do it again. In a new position. I like the idea of you riding me. Can we do that next?”

Taka let out a gusty sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Where is this energy coming from?”

“I just _had sex_ , fucking _amazing_ sex. You do have food, right?” Monta asked, pushing himself up to lean over Taka’s shoulder and meet his eyes. Taka glared at him, then gave up with an eyeroll upwards.

“Yes, of course. In the minifridge. If you chew in my ear, I’ll kick you to the floor.”

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy the afterglow,” Monta replied blithely, bouncing onto his feet and stretching his arms up high over his head.

He dug in the fridge- no, he didn’t bother getting dressed, screw that- snagged some apples and a sports’ drink, then bound his way back to the bed. Taka had already stripped the top sheet off, spread out a blanket to lie on, and stretched out on his back, so Monta shoved him over to cuddle in close. Taka huffed, but his look was fond as he turned over to see Monta staring pensively up at the ceiling and munching on an apple. Monta held out the second one, and Taka took it with a resigned smirk.

“Did you mean it?” Monta asked suddenly, eyes serious over his bulging chipmunk cheeks. Taka raised an inquiring eyebrow. “About it… being me? Always me?”

Taka turned onto his side, Monta mirroring him automatically. “Ever since we met, you’ve always been there. I couldn’t imagine you not there. The moment our relationship changed into… something else? Yes, I knew there’d be no one else for me now.”

Monta choked slightly and punched at his chest, cheeks and ears ruddy. Taka smiled affectionately if wearily. “Yeah, me, too. I mean…I think this is it for me, too,” Monta confessed, thumbing at his nose and grinning bashfully.

“Honestly, I never gave any of my relationships the amount of effort I gave ours. Perhaps if you’d been gay or bi from the start we would’ve been here years ago.” Monta squinted dubiously at that and Taka laughed. “Or perhaps not.”

“I think we started just when we were supposed to. No way would I have been okay with something like _this_ at sixteen. Or even eighteen. Shin and Sena are _not_ the norm, bro.”

“I thought you were going to stop that,” Taka groaned- and not the sexy way sadly. Monta munched more of his apple and grinned widely.

“You want me to call you babe all the time? In public, too?” he asked, snickering. It died swiftly, apple gulped down too fast, as Taka was suddenly kneeling over him, hair falling around them in a curtain that had Monta’s pulse ratcheting up.

“Yes. Just remember, every time you say it, I’ll be thinking about you fucking me.”

“Holy shit,” Monta breathed. The apples fell to the floor.

But it’d been ten minutes… so... yolo?

* * *

 

Monta finally showed up home the next day, whistling, clothes rumpled and a large hickey high on his neck. Riku, Sena, and Shin all looked up from where they sat crammed on the small couch, Shin trapped in the middle and holding a game controller like someone else holds a bomb.

“Monta-kun! You’re back!” Sena greeted, rather obliviously. Riku was already hiding his face in his hand.

“Hell yeah, and finally not a virgin!” he exclaimed, fist in the air. Sena was no longer oblivious and looked cornered. "Several times, actually!"

Shin squinted before, every seriously, saying, “Congratulations?”

“Thanks, man! I’mma go shower. I’ll tell you all about it later!”

“… I’m going to Kid’s. Bye,” Riku announced as Monta stomped down the hallway.

“Does that mean we can stop playing the game?” Shin asked, a little desperately. He said _game_ like it was a venomous animal with fangs.  

“I would go with Rikku-kun if I were you, Seijuuro. You don’t wanna be here when Monta-kun’s done,” Sena warned with a pat to Shin’s shoulder. He dropped the controller and left with Riku too easily. Sena was already texting Suzuna for back up.

Monta was in the shower, sore, exhausted, and grinning dopily. 

 _It was always gonna be them. Just them._ Monta was a-okay with that future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have a thing for dudes who, when they like to bottom, REALLY REALLY like to bottom. Whoops? I just... enjoy them enjoying themselves?!?!
> 
> And yes, Monta is one of those freaks of nature with boundless energy after sex. Taka THOUGHT he was sexually active before. HA.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for: shoddy research and too many Americanisms for this being a Japanese show. I did cut a LOT of references, but...
> 
> Translation of Monta's bloody nose speaking: Yuck it up, ya jerk. I'll kick your ass... as soon as my nose stops bleeding.
> 
> Discussion of foster homes and senior homeless shelters (and no personal experience from author, please correct any poor assumptions or inaccuracies!)
> 
> Brief Gay Panic at the end there


End file.
